


Rubicon Gold

by one_more_offbeat_anthem



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Doctor Castiel (Supernatural), Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor Character Death, Nurse Dean Winchester, Panic Attacks, Toddler Jack Kline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_more_offbeat_anthem/pseuds/one_more_offbeat_anthem
Summary: This is a story about a doctor, a nurse, a four-year-old who loves trains, found family, and a golden retriever named Rubicon. It’s also a story about change, love, and what it means for things to end.(Or, Dr. Castiel Winchester is the new director of the nursing home his husband Dean works at, and the home is a bit devoid of life. Enter Castiel’s plan: fifty houseplants, one child, two cats, two dogs, one hundred birds, a garden, and a family reunited. What could go wrong?)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I am so excited to share this fic with y'all. I wrote it in November and was heavily inspired by my bioethics textbook ("Being Mortal" by Atul Gawande, I highly recommend it!) This story was a labor of love and I hope you guys like it.
> 
> Note: this fic is rated mature because there are a lot of discussions about death, there's some smut, and there's some homophobia. The tags make it sound all doom and gloom, but it's really a happy story (the angst is minor and not between Dean/Cas) and I just wanted y'all to be aware of what you were getting into :)
> 
> This fic would not have been possible without my veritable gaggle of betas--lovemuppet, cas_s_honeybee, dary, and callenofthenorth (I think that's all of them, haha)! 
> 
> As always, props go to the Profound Bond discord server. If you're 18+, [join us!](https://discord.gg/profoundbond) we're good fun :)
> 
> And if you like this, I post more stuff here sometimes and also on [my tumblr](https://one-more-offbeat-anthem.tumblr.com) :)

**_Rubicon: a bounding or limiting line (especially one that, when crossed, commits a person irrevocably)_ **

\-------------------------------------------------

**_“By nature, I am a sort of meeting place of countless streams of ancestral tendency. From moment to moment…I am a collection of impulses. We cannot see the inner light. Let us try the outer one.” —Josiah Royce_ **

“Could you take any longer in the bathroom?”

Castiel Winchester turned around to the sound of his husband, Dean, barging into the bathroom. The floor creaked as Dean slung an arm around him.

“Honey,” Cas said, “I’m almost done in here.”

“You’re looking at your hair again, aren’t you?”

“It’s already getting grey and I’m not even forty!”

“Well, I like it,” Dean spun Cas toward him, kissed his temple, “And you gotta get ready. New job starts today,” He released him, reaching for his toothpaste, “I wonder what the residents will think of Dr. Winchester.”

“I hope they like me,” Cas said, resisting the urge to wring his hands. 

“They like me, and you’re a hell of a lot nicer than I’ll ever be. ‘Sides, if it’s that bad…half of ‘em will forget about it tomorrow,” Dean was speaking now around his toothbrush, and it took all of Cas’s self-control not to outright laugh at him.

“Plus,” Dean added, after spitting and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I’m your ride, and I don’t want you to be late.”

Cas sighed as Dean left, presumably to put coffee in thermoses for them. He was excited about his new job as director of Paradise Point Retirement Center, but it was going to differ incredibly from his five years at the emergency room. 

Of course, it wasn’t _such_ a departure. He and Dean had met when Cas was still in medical school. Dean had been a nurse in the geriatric wing of Kansas City General Hospital, and Cas had been placed there on his rotations. After his six weeks in geriatrics were up and it was time to move to the next placement, they had stayed in touch, and the rest was history. 

Cas had enjoyed geriatrics, he really had, so it made _sense_ to go to a nursing home when the late-night hours of emergency room work at St. Luke’s Community Hospital started to wear on him. The people were nice, easy to talk to, and the quiet solace of the geriatric ward had been oddly comforting.

But there was always the slim possibility that they might not like him.

And he was getting _old_.

When Cas got to the kitchen, Dean was dressed in his scrubs—today, _Scooby-Doo_ themed ones. Initially, Dean had worn the dull, mint green scrubs that nearly every nursing aide wore, but he had gotten bored with that pretty quick.

Dean loved the home, had hyped it up when Cas was applying for the job— _It’s way better than the hospital, babe, you really get to form relationships and shit with the residents_.

Ever the charmer, his husband was. 

“Cas,” Dean said, staring at him, “You’re doing that thing again. Stop messing with your lip.”

“Right.” 

“And your tie’s all…” Dean turned from the counter, bringing his hands to button the top button of Cas’s dress shirt and adjust the knot on his tie, “There.” 

“Thanks,” Cas smiled and reached around Dean to get his coffee, “I’m not trying to worry, it’s just—“

“What you do? I know. But there’s nothing to worry about. Once you finish that, we can go.”

Their plot of land a little ways out of Kansas City was one of the most important things in Cas’s life (besides Dean, their golden retriever named Rubicon, and his job). When things got too loud in his head, he could go out back and garden, or take a walk around the property. The trees in the front yard had leaves that shifted gently in the soft breeze of late spring, flowers that were in full, pink bloom. It was peaceful, idyllic.

It was disrupted by Dean starting up his car and then honking the horn at Cas.

Cas turned around, shaking his head but smiling fondly. Dean was emotionally attached to his sleek, black ‘67 Chevy Impala. For all intents and purposes, “Baby” was a member of the family. 

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove them to Paradise Point, humming along to the Led Zeppelin tape playing. Cas watched his profile. 

Dean was an exercise in contradictions, tall, broad, with a face doused in freckles and vivid green eyes and a kind, laughing smile. He was good with cars and loved cheeseburgers and classic rock, but he was also soft, gentle, and incredibly loving. He spoke of the residents he delivered meds to, changed, and fed as if they were some of the most important folks in his life—because they were. 

Cas had always wished he had the same capacity as Dean to just love and accept. Dean’s family was close-knit, and they had immediately accepted Cas into their fold. While Dean’s father had passed when he was a teenager, there was still his mother, his younger brother, Sam, and Sam’s wife, Jess. It felt _good_ to be a Winchester, Cas thought. 

Cas’s own family, the Damboises, were….different. They had never been particularly close, and his parents were extremely conservative and religious, naming their sons after angels—Michael, Gabriel, and, of course, Castiel. When he had come out, his parents had completely cut ties, but Gabriel didn’t, because Gabe was...interesting. And currently a male stripper in Vegas. He and Cas led _very_ different lives.

Surprisingly, his oldest brother, Michael, didn’t cut off ties, either.

Unlike their parents, Naomi and Charles, Michael had continued to invite Cas to things, allowing Cas to meet his nephew, Jack, and form a good bond with him. Jack was four now, and according to Michael’s wife, Virginia, visits from Uncle Cas and Uncle Dean were his favorite thing. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Dean asked, taking one of Cas’s hands and jerking him out of his thoughts.

“Nothing much,” Cas gave Dean a smile, “What if we have to stay late tonight, though? While I’m figuring things out?”

“Then I’ll watch _Perry Mason_ reruns with Rita on the second floor. She’s been dying to get me to that for months. Well, not literally dying. You get the idea.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

\-------------------------------------------------

“Ah, Dean!” The receptionist, Donna, crowed, “I see you’ve finally brought Dr. Winchester with you.” She smiled broadly up at Cas, “Nice to finally meet ya, Doctor. You’re pretty much all Dean talks about. That and westerns.”

“You can call me Castiel,” Cas said, shaking her hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Donna.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. There’s a meeting set up for you already in the boardroom, with the head nurses and some of the board members. Supposedly they have coffee, although I doubt it’s any good.”

“Alright…” Cas sighed, turned to Dean, “I’ll see you tonight?”

“I sure hope so,” Dean joked, before softening, “It’s all gonna be okay. And maybe you’ll see me around today.” He squeezed Cas’s hand before heading off to the nurse’s station to swipe his card and grab his medicine cart for post-breakfast rounds. Cas smiled at his retreating form fondly, thinking of when they first met and he would run into Dean on rounds at two a.m. in the hospital. They would talk about everything from _Star Wars_ to mortality before one of their pagers would beep, beckoning them to a room. 

Good times.

“Dr. Winchester?” Donna said, a note of comfort in her voice, “Dean’s right. He usually is.”

“I know.” Cas let himself smile, a real smile, and headed to his first board meeting as director of Paradise Point. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally two chapters, but I decided that, after yesterday, we need more escapism, so here y'all go! <3

_**“I prefer the more martial view that death is the ultimate enemy—and I find nothing reproachable in those who rage mightily against the dying of the light.” —Stephen Jay Gould** _

“Okay,” Dean said, “Decompress with me, babe. How was it, really? None of your negativity goggles.”

“It was….” Cas reflected, “I don’t know.”

It was true that Paradise Point was, in a general sense, pleasant. Everyone had been nice, and it wasn’t as sterile as some homes that Cas had visited in the past. However, there was a general air of melancholy that lingered over the whole thing, that permeated. The residents, most of them, were quiet, and their rooms were drab, with dull lighting and fake plants. The common areas were devoid of noise except for the drone of the television, set either to daytime soaps or the news. 

It didn’t feel like a home, in short.

“Did anyone throw tomatoes at you?” Dean asked.

“No.”

“Then it was a success. Here,” Dean popped the cap off of a beer and handed it to Cas, “And this was only day one, with some awkwardness. Once you’ve been there for a little bit, it’ll be as easy as breathing.”

“How long did it take you to get acclimated?” Cas asked.

“Not too long. But I wasn’t a direction transition, I was just a new nursing aide,” Dean sighed, “To be honest, the best part of my job is getting to talk to the residents and just hang out with them. They light up when you ask them how they’re doing, what they’re interested in. They just like company.”

“Yeah….” Cas made a mental note to look tomorrow more closely at the scheduled activities, how and when they were offered. The times needed to be conducive to what the people needed, he thought. And what were the activities? He knew of cribbage, knitting circles, a book club, and bingo. And an occasional outing to the movies.

That didn’t seem right.

Cas thought about all the things he enjoyed about his life. Gardening. Taking walks in the sunshine. Hot chocolate. Playing with Rubicon, who was currently lying across his feet. Here, drinking beers with Dean. A lot of other things. 

What did his residents enjoy? What made their lives worth living?

\-------------------------

“Well,” Cas said to Dr. Jody Mills, his assistant director, “Everyone here is dying.”

It was a week later, and Cas was now convinced that something was _wrong_ with the nursing home. It was far too gloomy and devoid of life, and everyone was, in his mind, unreasonably sick.

“Castiel,” Jody replied patiently, “This is a nursing home.” 

“I know, but dying doesn’t have to be so….” Cas searched for the right word, “Lonely. No one seems truly happy.”

“Except for Harold.”

“Except for Harold,” Cas said, his voice trailing off. He had talked to Harold—he knew exactly what was making the elderly man so happy. With his long white beard and collection of herbs growing on his windowsill, Harold seemed to be comprised of sunshine. His room was the only one that didn’t feel dead. 

But Harold was still dying. He was the happiest, but that didn’t make him truly happy, did it?

Cas knew what to do in this sort of situation. He went to his computer, opened up the medical files database for the home, and began sorting, looking for people whose conditions had worsened significantly since coming to Paradise Point, and began figuring out what sorts of tests the residents might need. A blockage listed here that he noted from medical school as a possible precursor of a certain type of cancer, a tumor there that needed testing to see if it had grown, a patient who might need artificial nutrition and hydration…..

It was easy to send out the recommendations to the nurses and the patient’s families, to get it all together, and at the end of the day, he leaned back from his desk, rubbing his eyes, and feeling relieved. He was going to make things better at Paradise Point. 

There was a knock on the door to his office, and then Cas heard it open slightly. “Dr. Winchester?” A familiar voice said teasingly, “Your husband’s here. He’s wondering if you’d like to come home for dinner now.”

Cas looked up to see Dean smirking at him, wearing blue scrub pants and a scrub top covered in dogs today. 

“Of course. I was just finishing up.” Cas logged out of his computer and shut it down before grabbing his briefcase. Dean took his hand as they left the office. 

“See you two tomorrow,” Donna waved at them as they left, “Dean, make sure the good doctor takes a moment to relax.”

“Easier said than done,” Dean grinned. Cas waved with a smile of his own.

“So,” Dean said, once they were in the Impala and had turned out of the nursing home’s parking lot, “I noticed you, uh, ordered a lot of tests today.”

“Well, everyone’s not very healthy.”

“Cas, they’re _old_.”

“Yeah, Dr. Mills pointed that out.”

“And Dr. Mills is a smart lady.” Dean let out a slow breath, “Now, I’m a nurse, not a doctor, but…I got a couple of messages at the nurse’s station that you want to put a few more people on artificial nutrition and hydration, feeding tubes ’n shit. And I’m not saying that’s a bad idea. But…I watch these residents. They _can_ eat, they just do it really slowly.”

“Which is….” Cas fiddled with a button on his doctor’s coat, “Not as efficient.”

“Sometimes,” Dean pointed out, “We eat dinner slowly. We just relax and enjoy each other’s company. Is that so bad?”

Cas shrugged. 

“Babe, don’t get me wrong, I think you’re gonna do great things. You already have. Rita’s been asking about the new, hot doctor—she was crestfallen to find out he was taken.” Dean briefly turned his head to Cas and winked before looking out the windshield at the road again, “But…you don’t have to reinvent the wheel.”

“Right.”

“Speaking of eating…we’ve got the stuff to make spaghetti. Thoughts?”

“I’m always game for your spaghetti.”

\-------------------------

All weekend, even when Cas wasn’t at the home, checking in on how things were going, Dean’s words lingered in his mind. As he dug his trowel into the ground in the garden, he mused over what it meant to be alive.

The people at the home were certainly _alive_. They took their pills at the right time, went to bed and rose again with the schedules, although they didn’t, as far as Cas could tell and Dean and Jody had told him, get out much. Some of them ate alone, in their rooms. Cas had envisioned a change of pace from the nervous energy of the emergency room, where it was just one crisis and one hard decision after another. Instead, it was the same—or the same, enough. At the emergency room, if it was nearly three am and there was a lull, the melancholy of weighty decisions would settle—it was the three am slump. At Paradise Point, everything seemed to be in a constant three am slump. 

Things out on their patch of land, though, were entirely different. Cas looked up from the bed of zinnias he was weeding to see Dean washing the Impala with Rubicon, who was bounding around as Dean attempted to spray him with water. The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, a rare breeze starting to come in. It was the last gasp of summer, the start of fall, a vast, heavy time. 

But it was heavy in a _good_ way, in a way that promised good times. It was sweating outside to drink cold beer inside under a fan, stargazing later when it had cooled off, the farmers market some mornings, when they felt like getting up early on their morning off and driving into Kansas City proper. 

Cas watched as Dean slipped on the grass and collapsed on top of Rubicon. He didn’t bother to conceal his laugh. 

\-------------------------

Two weeks had passed, and Cas had fallen into a steady routine at Paradise Point. Most days, he and Dean would arrive together in the Impala (although a few times Cas had driven his battered truck and gotten teased by Donna for being a doctor with an old car) and leave together as well. In the middle, Cas was either in his office, talking to families, or making the rounds, meeting with his residents, asking them how their days were. 

“You know,” Rita, who was confined to a wheelchair these days and started their every conversation by talking about Dean, who was her favorite nurse— _and the cutest one_ , she said (Cas was inclined to agree), “Our old director, Dr. Cain? He never did things like this. He didn’t—“ she coughed, her white curls bobbing, “He didn't come and talk to us. It didn’t seem like he cared.” She smiled at him then, sticking out a bony finger, leaning forward in her chair to poke Cas in the chest, “But you care, Dr. Winchester. Don’t you?”

“Of course,” Cas smiled at her (she was, as Dean had promised, incredibly friendly), but he felt a pang in his heart about the old director. Was this how Paradise Point had gotten so melancholy?

In med school, Cas had gotten really into studying geriatrics because it was a field not many people went into these days—there was a severe shortage of gerontologists, in fact. Nursing homes had been created as a way to get the elderly out of hospitals, but they had, in some ways, become hospitals themselves. Cas once again recalled his days in med school, on his rounds, and his six-week stint in the geriatric ward of Kansas City General Hospital. Only the children's hospital he had been at before had compared in being sad and lonely—and it had kids, some running around and regaining their strength. 

The only problem was that Cas’ solution, to test the residents and address potential health hazards, wasn’t going over so well.

Cas had gotten numerous emails and calls from the families of residents. They didn’t want another MRI or x-ray. They didn’t want any of their family members on a new medication. 

And some of them were upset, because “Dr. Cain never asked for any of this! He left well enough alone!” or “My grandmother/great-aunt/mom is already dying!”

It was with those thoughts on his mind that Cas collapsed on his bed at the end of his third full week at Paradise Point. Dean was still up, rummaging through their closet for something. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked, “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m just… _urgh_ ,” Cas ran his hands through his dark hair (Dean always told him that he had “perma-bedhead”) and sighed, “I’m doing something wrong, but I can’t figure out what. I ordered tests, to _help_ the residents, but no one wants to do them.” 

Dean paused his rummaging in their closet to turn to him, “I told you already what I think. All of those tests, they…..they don’t make anyone less sick, you know. These people are dying, no matter what. They want to enjoy the end of their lives, but if they’re hooked up to machines or not allowed to see other people….”

“It’s just…” Cas flopped his head to the side so that he could look at Dean, “I’m used to a problem having a concise answer. At the emergency room, we see: someone’s gone into cardiac arrest or they’ve been shot or they’ve broken a leg. We run tests, we fix the problems, we refer them to other places, specialists and doctors, if needed. It’s so simple. This isn’t… _simple_.”

“I know.” Dean sat on the edge of the bed, “I know it’s different. But I’ve always worked in geriatrics, so let me tell you: your residents don’t want anything ‘fixed.’ They already know that they’re aging. That’s why they’re there. What they _want_ is to make the most of the time they have left. They want happiness." He smiled gently, "What makes you happy, Cas? Besides me, of course."

“You’re lucky I love you,” Cas reached out to shove his husband, “Gardening? Cooking with you? Getting to see my family?”

“So maybe you need to think about…alleviating instead of fixing.”

“Right…” Cas said. 

He was getting an idea. 

\-------------------------

“Harold!” Cas opened the door after he had gotten a feeble _come in!_ , “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Harold said to him with a tired smile, “How are you, Dr. Winchester?”

“Not bad. I’ve, uh, come to ask you about your plants.”

“Of course.”

Cas sat down in the chair by Harold’s bed. Harold had stage three lung cancer, and he didn’t always have the strength to get out of bed.

“Why’d you bring your herbs here?” Cas asked. 

“Well, when I got here, I saw that all they had were dead plants. And I said that I wasn’t gonna die in a place full of dead things! Do you have a garden, Doctor?”

“I do, actually,” Cas said, “My husband and I live on a pretty sizable plot of land.”

“I forgot, you’re married to that nurse who always wears the fun scrubs.”

“That’s true,” Cas smiled as he recalled the scrubs Dean was wearing today—they were car patterned, because _of course they were_.

“Then you get it. Your job, Dr. Winchester, is to keep people alive, right? And if I’m gonna be here until God knows when, I’m gonna live. Those other residents need some life. That’s why my room’s the happiest.”

“That’s true.”

_Your job is to keep people alive._

What did it mean to live, Cas wondered, as he walked back down the hall after visiting Harold. There were a few residents on the second floor he needed to visit that he hadn’t seen the day before, maybe now was a good time. 

He walked past an open door and heard Dean’s voice filtering out of it, talking to a resident. He was telling the story of when they got Rubicon, and Cas felt his heart swell. The resident Dean was talking to laughed, and Cas wished, as always, that he was as good with people. It made sense why Dean was a nurse—his bedside manner was fantastic. 

(In more ways than one, but that was _not_ a thought for work.)

Maybe part of the problem was that Cas wasn’t used to _this_ part of dying. Unfortunately, he saw a lot of people who were on the edge of death at the emergency room. But often it was a quick process—cardiac arrest, an aneurysm, a cracked spine or… something that spelled certain death.

This was different.

He was starting to see how dying wasn’t so easy. It took time. And maybe Cas was bad at that.

 _Not bad,_ he could hear an echo of Dean’s voice, _if you were bad, babe, they never would have hired you_.

Dean always seemed to have more hope in him than he did. 

Just then, Dean wheeled out of the room Cas had stopped in front of with his medical cart. “Hey, Dr. Winchester,” Dean said, smirking, before winking at Cas, “What’s up?”

“Just talked to Harold.”

“I’m headed to him now!” 

“He’ll be glad to see you, I think.”

“He usually is,” Dean reached out, took Cas’s hand and gave it a squeeze, “Lighten up, sweetheart.” And then he was off down the hall to where Cas had come from, humming a Def Leppard song. 

\-------------------------

Cas had, against all odds, come away from his conversation with Harold with an idea. 

“I know how to fix Paradise Point,” he said to Dean as they were cooking dinner (beef stroganoff, because it was Dean’s turn to choose).

“You… If it’s more tests, babe, I love you but that’s not a good idea.”

“No!” Cas frowned indignantly. “Ye of little faith. I talked to Harold today about our garden.”

“Oh?”

“I think what’s missing from Paradise Point is the _paradise_ ,” Cas waved the wooden spatula he was holding around excitedly, “They need life.” 

“You wanna elaborate?” Dean was smirking, close to a grin.

“Harold’s happier than most. He’s got his plants and what does everyone else have? Fake plants. They should _all_ have real plants. And we have a garden… What if the home had a garden too? I mean, it’s too late to break ground now, but maybe in the spring—“

“Sweetheart,” Dean tried to interject, but Cas was on a roll now.

“—And animals. I could see a few cats, a dog maybe? Like Rubicon, only a bit calmer—“ the dog in question thumped its tail on the ground, “—And birds. Are birds a little _too_ crazy?”

“Maybe,” Dean said, smiling indulgently, “But you might be onto something… How about you start with the plants. I feel like the health department will have less trouble agreeing to those than, say, animals.”

“Right, right,” Cas stirred the stroganoff with his spatula, “I just—it doesn’t feel like a home, and now that I realize that I know why it doesn’t.” 

Dean didn’t say anything for a moment, putting the egg noodles in the boiling water, but once he’d thrown the bag in the trash, he turned back to Cas, “You look happy.”

“I am,” Cas smiled.

“Mmm-hmm. I like that,” Dean pulled him into his arms, snaking one hand to Cas’s upper back to pull him in for a kiss.

"The stroganoff, honey. Be careful.” 

“I am,” Dean took the spatula from Cas and set it on the counter, “But right now, I want you to kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed that! married destiel makes me *cas voice* very happy, I hope it does the same to y'all <3 next chapter will be up on Monday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may note the chapter count went down to 11-worry not! you will still get all 27k of your words, I just squished things together to make the chapters longer :)
> 
> also: there is a lil smut at the end of this chapter :)

**_“Our ultimate goal, after all, is not a good death but a good life until the very end.” —Atul Gawande_ **

Cas had never really had to deal with the health department directly before, which was why he wasn’t sure to expect. Donna had helped him submit an application for permission to buy live plants for all the rooms and make a garden in the back, and now he was just waiting for a response. He’d been checking his email like crazy, when he wasn’t attending board meetings, making rounds, or meeting with families.

And then, at long last, his phone rang.

“Dr. Castiel Winchester speaking,” he answered, hoping it was the health department.

“Dr. Winchester! Wow, your voice is deeper than I imagined,” a man’s voice bubbled out of the other end. 

“Uh…may I ask who’s speaking?” Cas ran a hand through his hair (he knew that, if Dean was in his office, he would be mocking him for the state of disarray his hair was almost always in).

“This is Dr. Zachariah Solomon with the health department. I just wanted to call about your proposal for spending and also just chat a little bit! I haven’t gotten a call from here since Dr. Cain left.” 

“Uh…nice to meet you?” Cas was a little lost on where, exactly, this conversation was going. 

“I did a little digging…saw that your husband works at Paradise Point, too? At least, I assumed it was your husband—from the staff pictures, you don’t look like brothers!”

“Yes,” Cas sighed, “My husband is a nursing aide here. But I don’t see how that applies to my proposal.”

“Ah, a man who likes to get right to the point! Well, there were no problems with it. You have sufficient funds, and it was incredibly well-researched and put together. Certainly much more organized than anything Dr. Cain produced.” Zachariah let out a laugh. 

“So it’s been approved?” Cas asked.

“Of course! We’re excited for you. Have fun with your plants! Bye, now!”

“Goodbye.” Cas hung up.

He wasn’t sure he liked Zachariah Solomon all that much.

\-------------------------------------

So it was a week later that Jody came into Cas’s office to find him leafing through a pamphlet from a local plant nursery and humming to himself. 

“Dr. Winchester?”

“Jody, you  _ can _ call me Castiel. Or Cas, if you prefer. I really don't mind.” Cas didn’t look up from the pamphlet.

“The Robertsons are here, to talk about their grandmother.” Jody paused, "What are you doing?"

“Oh, Dr. Solomon from the health department called—live plants have been approved. So—“ Cas looked up then, waving the pamphlet. “Choosing plants! All the fake ones are leaving.”

“Huh.” Jody looked him over, a small smile on her face. “You, Castiel, are full of surprises.” 

“I’ve been told that before. Usually by Dean, though, when he remembers that I know how to bake.” Cas stood up, adjusting his tie (it was always crooked and Dean was always bugging him about it). 

“How did you two meet, anyways?” Jody asked.

“I was doing rotations in the ward he was a nurse in,” Cas replied.

“No, I know that. How did you  _ meet _ ?”

“Oh…” Cas smiled at the memory as they left his office and walked down the hall. “He actually…rammed me with a patient. He was rolling a gurney down the hall, and I was rounding the corner at the same time—I was lost. It would have been funny, if it weren’t for the dying person.”

“What a meet-cute.” 

“It got better. As an apology, he got me crappy vending machine coffee at four am and that’s when we had our first real conversation.”

“Sweet.” Jody smiled like she really meant it.

The conversation with the Robertson family was much less enjoyable—Cas hated having to tell people that they were going to have to make hard decisions. 

“As you know,” Jody said, “Your grandmother’s primary care doctor has indicated that treatment after this point would be futile. This leaves you with a couple of options, but we highly recommend some form of hospice treatment.”

“She can stay here and have a hospice nurse visit, she can be put in a hospice facility, or she can be moved elsewhere and have a home nurse,” Cas continued, “The goal is to make the care as seamless as possible.” 

“But, Dr. Winchester,“ Mrs. Robertson’s face fell, “Isn’t hospice just…giving up?”

“Of course not.” Cas took a deep breath before he continued, “Hospice is palliative care—instead of treating someone to cure them, they are treated for comfort.”

“The goal of hospice is a comfortable, not painful, end-of-life experience,” Jody added soothingly. 

The rest of the conversation ran in a similar vein—talking about pricing and affordability and insurance and, naturally, dying. Cas had always hated that it cost so much to stay alive but that it also cost so much to die. 

His mind was still on the plants, the live plants, the things that could maybe help everyone remember why they were here, still alive.

Would he love his patch of land so much if it wasn’t a place that he felt alive, real, in? Probably not.

Why should Paradise Point be any different? 

\-------------------------------------

“Peace lilies love the indoors, and they’re almost impossible to kill,” the guy at the plant nursery said. He was wearing overalls, possessed a rollicking, deep voice, and had a name tag on that said  _ Benny _ . 

“That sounds…nice,” Cas said thoughtfully, “Why are they called peace lilies, if they don’t flower?” 

“Well, they do—white flowers, real nice—but not if they’re indoors. They bud sometimes, but they hardly ever flower inside. And it’s actually not a true lily.”

“Ah….is that…good?”

“Absolutely.” Benny grinned at him, “Sir, if these were real lilies…they’d be poisonous to pets. Not so good for a living environment.”

“Okay.” Cas thought to himself—most people had roommates, and he was going to need some bigger plants, too… “This might sound odd, but….is it possible to have….fifty of these?”

“ _ Fifty _ ?” Benny’s eyebrows shot up, “What do you need them for?”

“I, uh…I’m the director of Paradise Point, the nursing home? And we’re replacing all the fake plants with live ones…and I wanted to buy local,” Cas finished lamely.

“Well, sir, you’ve made yourself a friend, then. I’m Benny LaFitte.” Benny stuck out his hand and shook.

“Castiel Winchester,” he replied.

“Winchester…your husband come here before, got some rose bushes?”

“Dean?” Cas smiled as Benny nodded, “Yeah, those were for our front walk.”

“I figured he couldn’t be your brother. You two don’t look much alike.”

“You’re actually one of the few to  _ not  _ assume he’s my brother first,” Cas said with a grin, “So thank you.”

“No problem, man. Now, let’s get you fixed up with those lilies.”

“I was also hoping,” Cas continued talking as Benny led him to a corner of the nursery, “That you knew about any larger decorative plants?”

\-------------------------------------

As fall settled in, so did Cas. He was beginning to feel like he was on more even footing at Paradise Point. He knew everyone’s names, and had even managed to get Jody to consistently refer to him as Castiel or Cas instead of Dr. Winchester.

He also discovered things like: it takes a lot of trips to get enough plants to fill up a nursing home to said nursing home in a 1967 Chevy Impala and a 1987 Ford F-250 (also known as Cas’s truck, which Dean spent a decent chunk of time making fun of whenever he got the chance. Cas was always eternally grateful that he and Dean hadn’t met in college, when he still drove his gold, low-rider 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V). 

Insofar, the plants had been a hit—Harold said he felt like a celebrity because everyone was asking him for advice, and Cas enjoyed taking time out of his day every once in a while to water the plants that were in the main common areas. Someone else could have done it, sure, but it was nice to have a moment of quiet that just belonged to him and no one else.

“You know,” Dean said one evening, after Cas had been spending time in their garden and was currently washing off dirt up to his elbows in the kitchen sink, “I like this version of you.”

“How’d you feel about the other versions?” Cas smiled to himself, though. 

“I’ve always liked you, babe. Love at first gurney-hit. But something about you seems….lighter.”

Cas dried off his hands and turned to face Dean, who had migrated to standing behind him, “Maybe so.”

“It’s true.” Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’s forehead, gifted him a smile (all of Dean’s smiles were a gift, no matter how frequent they were), took Cas’s hands in his, “Paradise Point looks good on you.”

“Plus the hours are better.” Cas leaned his head into Dean’s chest, “There’s only one issue.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to start getting the health department to agree to all the pets I want….except, well, that means I have to talk to Dr. Solomon again.”

“Zachariah?” Dean asked, “Oh, that is rough.”

“He’s just so…talkative. And you know how I feel about talking on the phone.”

“Yes, sweetheart. You hate it unless it’s with me.”

“You know it.” Cas smiled into his husband’s chest, let himself be pulled into a hug, “I already know getting them to agree to the animals is going to be—“

“A bear?”

“Exactly. And I doubt he’ll make it any easier.”

“You could always draw up garden plans in the meantime.” Dean’s eyebrow wiggle was nearly audible, “I know how much you love to plan thingst.”

“Dean Winchester, do you exist purely to antagonize me?” Cas pulled back, raised an eyebrow.

“Hmm…probably.”

“Makes sense.” 

The rest of the conversation got lost—Dean just looked like he needed to be kissed, and Cas couldn’t let that fly. 

\-------------------------------------

“Tell me, Jody,” Cas said, rifling through his papers absentmindedly as they took their lunch break together, “If you were going to ask the health department to let you have pets in a nursing home, what would be your pitch?” 

“I hope you’re not planning on bees, Cas,” she said, giving his bee costume he was wearing over his suit and doctor’s coat for Halloween a once-over. Well, costume was a strong term—it was really just a pair of wings. Dr. Mills herself was wearing an outfit under her doctor’s coat that was reminiscent of the Dr. Ellen Sattler character from  _ Jurassic Park.  _

“No, although if we start a garden, beehives could be…” Cas shook his head once. He had been unable thus far to convince Dean that they personally needed bees, so the health department was liable to be even less amicable to the idea. “Complicated,” he finished. 

“Cats and dogs, right?”

“And birds.”

“Birds?”

“Think about it.” Cas read from his sheet of notes, “ _ Birds are very social and intelligent creatures. They do not need to be groomed, their feed is inexpensive, they can be kept in small spaces… _ In fact, here’s a factoid from a pet care magazine:  _ Birds can be great companions for senior citizens, only children, or petless households, and they can provide companionship and enjoyment for many years. _ ”

“I see you’ve done your research,” Jody said wryly, taking a bite of her sandwich. 

“He always does,” Dean budged in, “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” He was wearing cowboy boots with his scrubs for Halloween, because if there was anything Dean loved more than cheeseburgers, Cas, his car, or his residents, it was the television show  _ Dr. Sexy, M.D.  _

(Dean had told Cas before that he thought Cas was hotter than Dr. Sexy. Cas took it as the very high compliment it was.)

“It’s no problem.” Cas did, however, raise an eyebrow, “You’re supposed to be on lunchtime med rounds right now, though. What’s up?” 

Dean frowned, pressing his lips together. Cas noticed his shoulders tense.

“Dean,” he said, “Is something wrong?”

Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot, before saying, “Your mother called.”

“If this is personal, I can—“ Jody started, but Cas cut her off. 

“It’s fine, Jody. She called the front desk? Why didn’t Donna redirect it? Or…” Cas glanced at his cell phone, “She…. _ oh.  _ Oh….oh  _ no _ .”

“Yep,” Dean said grimly, “She called  _ me _ .”

“I thought she didn’t have your number! Seeing as she likes to pretend you don’t exist and all.”

“She got it from Michael. Apparently she….Naomi wants you to know that she and your father are redoing their will. Updating it.”

“And?”

“And you’re being written out of it.”

Jody glanced between them, looking a little worried, but Cas just started to laugh, first a little giggle and then borderline hysterical. “I haven’t been written out already?” He exclaimed. 

“…Clearly not.”

“ _ That _ ,” Cas wheezed, “Is amazing. My mother who likes to pretend my husband doesn’t  _ exist _ called him to let me know I’m being written out of the will. That’s…”

“Your mother doesn’t sound very nice,” Jody said drily.

“Oh, she’s not,” Dean smiled grimly, “That’s kind of the whole point.”

\-------------------------------------

“Wait,” Dean said, propping his head on Cas’s shoulder, “You’re not mad about the whole…your mother writing you out of the will thing?”

“No,” Cas said around his toothbrush, “Why would I be?” They were in their bathroom at their house, getting ready for bed, with Dean crowding Cas’s space (not that Cas minded—they had just had a rather…..energetic shower together). Cas swished, spit, wiped his mouth off, and looked back up at Dean’s reflection in the mirror behind him. “ _ Should _ I be?” He asked. 

Dean shrugged, “I dunno, babe. It’s just odd of your mother to call, seeing as she hates me so much.”

“Can’t hate someone who doesn’t exist.”

“Fine, she pretends I don’t exist. Look, it’s just odd.”

“Maybe she thought I would get upset. She has a habit of framing my frustrations at her prejudices as me being unpredictable or ungrateful or…”

“She gaslights you.”

Cas sighed, turning to leave the bathroom. “Not new news. I went to therapy in college to deal with that. You already knew that.” He approached their bed and started pulling back the comforter. “Naomi is a terrible person. We both know that. And I don’t  _ need  _ her money. And even if I—we—did….I wouldn’t take it.” He climbed into bed.

“Right, right. I just worry about you.” Dean threw himself down next to Cas, rolled over to kiss his cheek.

“You don’t have to.”

“Kinda do, sweetheart. It’s my job.”

\-------------------------------------

Naomi’s call, while frustrating, had given Cas an idea, one that he put into motion the very day after Halloween. 

If she could call, try to find a way to get under Cas’s skin without directly telling him, then maybe Cas could do the same to the health department. 

Did he  _ have  _ to specify the sort of pets they needed? Was it a requirement? 

(Would “pets” be vague enough to allow for a hundred birds?)

While he set to writing his proposal, life kept on—the nursing home was a lot more lively than Cas had expected. Of course, he hadn’t known exactly what to expect going in. Dean had described it as “invigorating work,” but Dean was, in Cas’s opinion, far more charismatic. He could make conversation with a tree stump. Cas, on the other hand, often found himself lost (Dean had once joked that his “people skills” were “rusty.”)

He was working on his not-proposal proposal one afternoon in early November when there was a knock on his office door. “Come in,” he said, trying to disguise the weariness that had come with starting his morning with a discussion with a family whose great-uncle was experiencing kidney failure. 

“Dr. Winchester?” It was Donna. “I’m here to introduce the new nursing aide.”

Cas spun around in his chair, stood up, adjusting his tie as he took in the young woman with long, flaming red hair, glasses, and dark green scrubs on. She gave him a wave and a big smile before saying, “I’m Charlie Bradbury. It’s nice to meet you!”

Cas stuck out his hand to shake, “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie. Welcome to Paradise Point.”

“Dr. Winchester has been here since August,” Donna said, “He’s new but incredibly capable.”

“Donna, you flatter me.” Cas turned his attention back to Charlie, “You can just call me Castiel, if you like.”

“Castiel? Really?” Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Cas asked.

“That’s the name of my DnD character. Unusual name. But very pretty.” Charlie’s smile was genuine.

“You’ll get along well with my husband, Dean. He’s one of the other nursing aides—he loves playing DnD and roping me into it.”

“As if you complain,” Dean said, showing up, as per usual, at exactly the right time. “I was told that Donna here had stolen our new nurse away to the good doctor’s office, and I needed to show her around.”

“No complaints here.” Cas smiled warmly, “We’re happy to have you.”

\-------------------------------------

Cas slept fitfully, his mind on families he had to talk to, proposals he had to write, paperwork he had to file, the board meeting coming up in a few weeks…once he had finally managed to force himself to fall asleep, he woke in the early hours of the morning to Dean shifting against him. 

“Cas.”

“S’too early,” Cas mumbled, rolling over into his husband’s arms, “Go back to bed.”

“Don’t wanna.” 

Cas felt Dean’s mouth press against his, warm and soft, and then it traveled to the base of his jaw, to where it curved into his neck. The touch was gentle, almost feather light, and when Cas nudged his thigh in Dean’s direction, he could feel that he was half-hard. 

Cas tipped his head down in the dark until he had searched out Dean’s mouth, gently fitting their lips together again. The movements were slow—there was passion, but not intensity. Feeling Dean’s hands nudge up his shirt, press against his stomach and abdomen, felt more like coming home than anything else. 

“C’mon,” Dean whispered, “Get rid of this.” He gently pulled off Cas’s shirt before resuming his ministrations, his hands roaming up to Cas’s shoulder blades, causing Cas to have a sharp intake of breath. 

Dean rolled over slowly, nudging the comforter partly off the bed, until he was suspended on his elbows above Cas. Cas took the opportunity to grab Dean by his neck and pull him down for another kiss, letting his lips part slightly to allow Dean’s tongue entrance. 

They stayed like that for a while, lazily kissing, Dean’s weight pleasant and warm on top of Cas, until Dean’s hands decided to go wayward again, sliding down Cas’s side until they got to the top of his thin, flannel pajama pants. Dean’s meandering touch was gentle yet earnest as he ran his knuckles up and down Cas’s slowly hardening length. 

_ “Dean _ .”

“I know, I know.” Dean’s mouth meandered to the soft space where Cas’s shoulder and neck met, and Cas felt himself arch upwards into Dean. After an eternity, Dean pushed down Cas’s pajama pants and took him in his hand, starting slowly and then moving faster, twisting upwards gently. 

When Cas finally got his brain to work again, he did the same to Dean, albeit much more clumsily, already panting into Dean’s neck. 

Dean tipped Cas’s head up, bringing their mouths back together. Their kisses were open-mouthed, wet, eager, and Cas swallowed all the noises Dean was making. Eventually, he came in a long arc of pleasure, and Dean followed closely behind. 

“Good morning,” Dean said after a few minutes of being slumped over Cas. He rolled off of him and rifled around in their nightstand for some tissues and handed them to Cas. 

“Thanks,” Cas said, clearing his throat. 

Dean’s smile was soft and golden, his green eyes wide, with sleep still mashed into the corners. Cas had been loving Dean for a long time, but seeing that smile in the morning still managed to warm his heart to the core. 

“So,” Dean started, but he was interrupted by Cas’s cell phone ringing. 

Cas leaned over to his own bedside table and answered it, “Hello? Mmm…mhmmm? Oh. Oh no. Yes, I understand. Of course. We’ll be there as soon as possible. I—thank you.” Cas stared at his phone hollowly as he hung up.

“Cas?” Dean laid an arm on his shoulder, after a drawn out silence, “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

“I…” Cas swallowed, “Michael. And Virginia and Jack. They were in an accident.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did y'all enjoy the introduction of some new faces (to the story) like benny and charlie? and what do you think will happen next???


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: part of this chapter takes place in a hospital, and there is discussion of removing ventilators. There is also some homophobia. None of this is graphic, but if these topics may be upsetting to you, I just wanted to let you. know <3

**_“When there is no way of knowing exactly how long our skeins will run—and when we imagine ourselves to have much more time than we do—our every impulse is to fight.” —Atul Gawande_ **

“Michael and Virginia were in an accident? Okay. Deep breaths.” Dean kept his hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Where are they?”

“Jefferson City, Missouri. At St. Mary’s.” 

Dean used his other hand to grab his phone. “It’s about two and a half hours from here to there. If we leave now, we can get there at….nine am.”

“I’m driving,” Cas said.

“No, you’re not. Grab some fresh clothes.”

Cas felt like his brain was malfunctioning, worry swallowing up his other emotions. Dean eventually grabbed a pair of jeans and a plaid button-down and threw it at Cas as he headed to the kitchen. Cas heard the coffee grinder after that—he guessed Dean was making them coffee for the drive. Well, it  _ was _ about six in the morning. 

Something in him briefly registered that the shirt he was putting on actually belonged to Dean, but that didn’t really matter. He grabbed his wallet and phone off the nightstand before walking to the kitchen.

“Should be ready in ten minutes,” Dean said, “And then we can take off. I’m glad I gassed up Baby yesterday afternoon.”

“Dean, you don’t have to come if—“

“Cas, they’re our  _ family _ .” Dean moved across the room to hug him. “I would never let you go into this alone, you know?”

“Right.” Cas buried his head in his husband’s shoulder.

The drive to Jefferson City was quiet. Dean didn’t make any noise or complaints about Cas immediately turning off the radio, and when eight am hit, he offered to make the calls to the home about them taking time off for a family emergency. Cas did it, though, since he was the director and all. The nurse on call told them she’d be praying for them.

Cas didn’t pray, not anymore.

There had been a time in his life where, if Michael or someone else he cared about got in an accident, he would have prayed feverishly for God’s salvation. But he hadn’t in so long, mostly because his parents were members of a part of Christianity that believed being gay was an insurmountable sin. When he had come out, his entire youth group had held a vigil. His church had asked him not to come. His parents had tried for therapy. 

That all stopped when Gabriel came home from college, announced he was pansexual and quitting school to move to Vegas, and said a lot of things to Naomi and Charles that Cas himself had never had the stomach to say. 

After that, Cas was mostly ignored until he went to college himself. 

He knew that there were other denominations, other religious groups, that didn’t find being queer an abomination, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to any church, not when he could still feel the pitying stares of his parents’ congregation, as if he was broken or sick. 

“Cas?” 

Cas jerked his head towards Dean. “Hm?”

“We’re here.”

“Right.” Cas registered now that the Impala was parked. 

Dean didn’t ask if he was alright, because Dean wasn’t like that. He knew about when words were useful, when he could joke around, and when it was time to be silent, when Cas just needed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

Like now.

Getting into the hospital was a blur, but Dean handled it—“We’re here to visit Michael Damboise.”  _ Name?  _ “Castiel and Dean Winchester.”  _ Alright, room 227B. _

It wasn’t unusual to be in an emergency room, not for Cas, but what was unusual was to be standing over beds containing his own family members. And this wasn’t Cas’s hospital—all of this was out of his hands. 

Michael and Virginia were already on ventilators, covered in tubes and barely recognizable, and Cas felt himself automatically going through all of their symptoms, thinking of  _ what could be done to save them???  _ And then Dean put a hand on his arm, and he felt his breathing study. 

Jack was lying on a smaller bed. He didn’t have any tubes, but he was unconscious, a gash across his forehead. 

“Ah. Castiel.”

Cas turned around to see his parents, staring at him coldly.

“Mother. Father. Hello.”

“I see you brought Dean with you,” Naomi said, frowning.

“Well, he’s family.”

“Ah.” Naomi practically glowered at Dean before walking to the side of Michael’s bed, “My son…” she turned to the nurse, “Where’s the doctor? I demand to speak to him.”

“She’s right here,” a woman with a shock of dark curls walked in, adjusting her doctor’s coat as she went, “Dr. Moseley. I assume you are the family?”

“Yes. The parents. Naomi and Charles Damboise.”

Cas frowned, but Dean spoke up before he could— _ everyone else, always stronger.  _ “So are we. This is Michael’s brother.” He gestured at Cas.

“Lovely.” Dr. Moseley smiled at them kindly before flipping out her clipboard, a motion Cas recognized from his time in the emergency unit at St. James, “I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is, Jack here should survive. We don’t think, at the moment, that he has any brain damage, although we will have to fully evaluate him when he wakes up. The bad news…Michael and Virginia have both lost cognitive brain function. They are unable to breathe by themselves, and they will, as far as we can tell, never regain that function.”

“I see.” Naomi’s face rearranged itself into a frown, “What are the next steps?”

“They can either die here, under removal of the ventilators, or we can transfer them to a nursing home. With breathing help and artificial nutrition and hydration, they could live for many years, although they will be in a persistent vegetative state. So it’s a decision you will have to make.”

“Obviously,” Charles said, “We want to go for the second option.”

“Well….” She flipped to another document on her clipboard, “It says here that Dr. Castiel Winchester is their decision making proxy.”

“I’m sorry,” Naomi said, “What?”

The doctor turned to Cas, “Does this surprise you?” 

Cas shook his head once, twice, briefly. He remembered the conversation where Michael had asked him a couple things about his will, but it was something that he never thought he would have to actually deal with. 

“Alright. Well, I’ll allow the family some time to think about it. The nurse can buzz me if I’m needed.” 

Cas watched Dr. Moseley’s retreating back, and then Naomi turned on him, “Castiel, you better not choose to end your brother’s life. You would kill him!”

“It’s not killing,” Cas said, sighing. “They would both likely be in pain for years, and it would cost thousands of dollars. Michael’s talked to me about his wishes before, and I’m a doctor. I’ve worked in an emergency room and now I'm at a nursing home. They would have no quality of life.”

“God will condemn it,” Naomi said.

“You—you heard the doctor,” Cas said. “I don’t want to do this, but….”

“Wait a week,” Charles said, “See if the doctor was wrong.”

Cas took a deep grounding breath, but Dean had already exploded next to him, “Cas is a doctor! He understands this kind of stuff like nobody’s business. What do you two know about it?”

“ _ Castiel  _ may be a doctor, but this is  _ different _ .” Naomi’s voice was somehow even colder.

“Leave it, Dean,” Cas muttered, before saying, “Fine. We’ll wait a week. If nothing’s improved, then—“

“Then we’ll take over.”

“You’re not his proxy.”

“We’ll have you ruled incompetent.”

“Under  _ what  _ grounds?” Dean burst in again. 

“Surely, as his….friend, you can understand why Castiel’s thinking might be a bit unorthodox.” Naomi smiled at Dean, but it wasn’t kind.

“I’m his husband.” Dean rolled his eyes, “Not his  _ friend.  _ And being gay doesn’t make someone stupid.”

“Bring the doctor back,” Naomi demanded. The nurse sighed, as if she had seen this scene before (she probably had—Cas himself had seen similar events play out in the emergency room. At least Michael had made a plan and assigned a proxy. It usually made things a  _ little  _ easier.)

Dr. Moseley was gentle and understanding, mentioned that the hospital had an ethics committee (Cas was familiar with the concept from his emergency room work), gave them a number to call, said she would contact them immediately if anything changed. 

When they got back into the Impala, Cas leaned his head on the dashboard, trying to ground himself. He wasn’t sure how he felt, or if he was feeling anything at all.

“Cas? Sweetheart?” Dean finally said after about ten minutes, “Do you…want to get something to eat? We skipped breakfast and it’s nearly eleven.”

“I’m fine,” Cas mumbled.

“Alright.” Dean started the car, and Cas could feel him backing up. 

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Taking us to Wendy’s. I’m hungry, and I’m going to get a cheeseburger. And some shitty coffee. Do you want fries?”

“Sure.” Cas lifted his head finally, “Large? With a Frosty?”

“Of course.”

They went through the drive-through and then parked in the lot of the Walmart next to the Wendy’s, with their food and a whole fleet of paper napkins. The vanilla ice cream nearly gave Cas brain freeze.

Dean let them eat in silence until he finished his hamburger (Cas was still wading through his veritable mountain of fries). Then, he cleared his throat once, twice, before saying, “We do have to make a decision. Well, you do. But I’ll be with you the whole way.”

Cas took a bit before he replied, swallowing the slowly-melting ice cream, chasing it with the salt of the fries. He stared at the Walmart sign, at the people who actually lived in Jefferson City, going about their days. 

“We have to—“ he swallowed, the words stuck in his throat, “We have to wait a week. I don’t—I don’t want them to have to suffer any longer, but…Naomi won’t have it, and…” He wasn’t going to cry, he  _ wasn’t _ , he hadn’t so far and he—

“Cas.” Dean’s voice was gentle yet firm, “It’s okay to let it out and be upset. You love Michael, you care about him and Virginia. And Jack. It’s okay to be torn up about this.”

“I just—“ Okay, now a sob was ripping out. “I know what the right thing to do is. I’ve talked to Michael about it, about his wishes. And I’m a  _ doctor.  _ I’ve coached families on what decision to make in these circumstances. But when it’s my family—“

“Then it’s personal. That makes sense.” Dean reached out a reassuring hand, placed it on his shoulder, “Letting go is hard, even when you know what to do. When my dad died—it was a car wreck, too. And we had to let him go. It was hard, for Mom especially, but also for Sammy and I. You know my dad wasn’t a perfect person. But he was still someone we cared about, so it hurt.”

“Yeah.”

“Cas. It’s supposed to hurt. You have to  _ let  _ it hurt.”

Cas was fully sobbing now, not tears streaming down his face or numb tears, but big, chest-heaving sobs. Dean took his fries and Frosty from him, setting them on the dashboard, before pulling Cas across the bench seat into his arms. 

Cas cried until the fight was all gone from him, until he felt like he had a headache, until there was a big wet spot on Dean’s shirt. “I’m sorry,” he hiccuped, slumped over and boneless in his husband’s arms.

“It’s okay,” Dean was rubbing Cas’s back, “It’s okay. You have  _ nothing  _ to be sorry for. This is hard stuff.”

“We were having a nice time—“

“And then life happened. Like I said, nothing to be sorry for.”

“We have to go back to work,” Cas said after a few silent moments.

“Sweetheart—“

“I have meetings! And paperwork! And you have nurse stuff, and—“

“Hey, Cas?”

Cas looked up at Dean with bleary eyes, “What?”

“Who’s in charge at Paradise Point?”

“…Me.”

“And who’s currently experiencing a personal crisis because of a family tragedy?”

“…Me.”

“Exactly. Call Dr. Mills. She’s capable.”

“I—okay.” 

Cas stepped out of the car to make the call, both to get some fresh air and to calm down. Missouri in November was a fair bit chilly, and he had left his coat back home in Kansas. He gulped down the cold air, though, let it dry the tear tracks on his cheeks. 

This wasn’t right—none of this was right. He wasn’t supposed to be in the parking lot of a Walmart in Jefferson City, Missouri, at eleven am on a Thursday, leaning against the Impala. He was supposed to be in a meeting, or in his office, or making rounds, waving to Dean and making small talk with Donna and complimenting Harold’s plants. 

How had it ended up this way? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for a sad chapter guys...but this story is kinda about mortality. worry not! things will look up <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: parts of this chapter are sad and deal with death. also, this chapter spans a bit of time--a few weeks, I'd say? enjoy!

**_“Time is a gift, given to you, given to give you the time you need, the time you need to have the time of your life.” —Norton Juster_ **

It was a week spent in and out of the hotel room that Cas and Dean ended up booking, of crummy hospital food and cheeseburgers from whatever fast food place was closest, of made-for-TV movies where the ending was _always_ happy, of Cas being restless and trying to sleep but not being able to, too full of fear to truly slumber. Dean was an anchor, as he always was—he talked when talking needed to happen. He reminded people that Cas existed. Dean fed him and reminded him to shower and held him tight when his eyes couldn’t fall shut. 

Between it all were tense conversations with Naomi and Charles. Naomi was praying, she would tell them. Cas didn’t think praying was wrong—he wished, again and again, that he could do it. But he felt like she was praying for the wrong thing—he wanted his brother and sister-in-law to have a peaceful end-of-life experience, to go where the beloved dead go.

They couldn’t come back to life, no matter how much he wanted them to. Every night when he went to bed, he willed that he would wake up back in the outskirts of Kansas City, Kansas, in the afterglow with his husband, with their dog asleep downstairs. 

(Their friend Jo was feeding Rubicon.)

On Wednesday, the day before the week was up, there was a knock on Dean and Cas’s hotel room door. It was nearly ten pm, far too late for visitors, but Cas decided to check and see who it was, anyway.

It was Charles.

He looked awkward and wrong-footed, and Cas just stood there and stared at him. Charles was in a suit, and Cas was in his pajamas, a mismatched flannel set that was technically Dean’s. 

“Hi,” Charles said awkwardly, “I just wanted to check in.”

“We’re doing…as well as we can,” Cas said, making to shut the door, but Charles put a hand up.

“Wait, Castiel, I need…” he lowered his voice, as if someone might hear them, “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. Talk.”

“I agree with you. Naomi doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to put my weight behind you. I think you’re right.” The last part came out like a whisper almost, as if Charles was ashamed. 

“You—“ Cas took a second to fully process what his father was saying, “You _what_?!”

“I think you’re right. I don’t want Michael and Virginia to suffer, and Jack—“

“Yeah.” Jack was still being kept at the hospital, being monitored to ensure that he hadn’t suffered any brain damage. So far, the prognosis was good. 

“I’m going to tell her tomorrow morning, but I just wanted to let you know first, and I don’t have your number.”

“Of course.” Cas pulled his phone out of his pocket, “Tell me yours. I’ll text you.”

“Right.” 

After numbers had been exchanged, Charles and Cas stared at each other awkwardly, until Dean came up behind Cas, clearing his throat. “Everything alright?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Charles said, “I was just leaving. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“What did he want?” Dean asked after he had left.

“He’s going to…he’s going to agree with me, overpower Naomi.”

“How do you feel about it?” This was the way Dean had always dealt with things that weighed heavy on Cas— _how do you feel about it?_

_It’s supposed to hurt. You have to let it hurt._

“Sad. But relieved. Maybe Michael and Virginia will finally get some peace.”

“They will.” Dean’s hand on his was soft and reassuring, “They will.” 

\-----------------------------------

“I know this is a hard decision. It is when any family makes it. But…” Dr. Moseley sighed, “I believe it was the right one to make.” 

Naomi still wouldn’t look at Cas—not that she ever did much to start with. Charles, for his part, looked at the ground, away from either his youngest son or his wife. Cas knew that he had gotten ripped to shreds by her for supporting his side.

(Cas was still surprised that Charles _had_ supported his side.) 

Gabriel looked around at everyone assembled like it was a tennis match. He'd come yesterday, to see it all end.

“Thank you,” Dean finally said, ever the pragmatist, even if he was a bit hot-headed and technically not a Damboise. (Cas felt like a Winchester, but that might be because it was his last name now and Dean’s family had made an enormous effort to make him feel included. It might also be because, besides Gabriel and Michael, the Damboises had decided to pretend Dean didn’t exist.)

Naomi looked like she was about to say something, but then she locked eyes with Dean. The two of them stared at each other stubbornly until Dr. Moseley cleared her throat, “Dr. Winchester, will you sign the papers?”

“Of course.” Cas took up the pen with careful hands, taking care not to let them shake, and signed a swirling _Castiel M. Winchester_ at the bottom of each release form. He knew that, in a way, he was releasing Michael and Virginia, but it still felt odd. He had always been, in the emergency room, on the other side of this process, holding out the clipboard to a bereft family. He’d never been the family himself. 

It took about ten minutes for Michael and Virginia to really, truly die. Jack was being taken care of by a nurse in another room—the small part of Cas’s brain that wasn’t hyper-focused on what was going on in front of him wondered how they were going to explain this to Jack— _they were going to have to take care of Jack._

Dean let Cas squeeze his hand as tight as he needed to.

A tear made its way down Naomi’s face when the machines finally let out a long, uninterrupted, flatlining beep, and Cas had to acknowledge, if only for a moment, that she wasn’t completely heartless. 

After that—more forms to sign. Picking up Jack, hugging him tightly. A cold goodbye from Naomi, a brief, stunted wave from Charles. Transporting plans to send the bodies to Joplin, Missouri, where they’d be buried. 

And then meeting with the lawyer to get Jack for real.

“Okay,” the lawyer signed the paperwork under the signatures of _Castiel Milton Winchester_ and _Dean Michael Winchester_ , and then handed them a thick pamphlet, “You officially have custody of Jack Damboise. Here’s his ID, recovered from his mother’s wallet, and other effects can be, per the will, gotten out of the home.”

“Thank you,” Cas said softly, fingering the ID. _Jack Kline Damboise._ The picture was from a year ago, but four-year-old Jack was still as golden-haired and chubby-cheeked as ever. 

“C’mon, kiddo,” Dean said softly, shaking Jack’s shoulder, “It’s time to leave.”

“Uncle Dean, can you carry me?” Jack’s voice was small.

“Of course.” Dean scooped him up, and Cas took their bags himself. 

Naomi and Charles were waiting when they got out of the room, and Naomi had an enormous scowl on her face.

“You’ll be hearing from us,” she said, her voice colder than ice, “You don’t get him that easily. Especially a non-family member—“

“No,” Cas said, his voice impossibly colder, “ _You_ don’t get him that easily. Dean, let’s go.”

“I’m driving,” Cas said, once they had buckled Jack, now nearly asleep, into a carseat that Gabriel had picked up for them. They were standing outside the car, the doors shut, as not to wake him.

“No,” Dean said, “You’re not.”

“You drove here.”

“And you,” Dean’s gaze was steady, “You’ve got that crazed look in your eyes. I don’t want you to do something that could get us hurt. On accident.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“Like hell you are.” Dean pulled Cas into his arms, held Cas’s face to his shoulder, “You just had to deal with Naomi, and your brother died, and we’ve got a _kid_ now…it’s okay to not be fine.” 

“Don’t wanna not be fine,” Cas mumbled.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Look,” Dean pulled back so he could look at Cas’s face, “You can take a rest. I can handle driving us home.”

“You just won’t let me drive Baby because you hate the way I change gears,” Cas said, halfway joking.

“There’s my Cas.” Dean ruffled his hair, before pressing a kiss to his temple, “Now let’s get home, let this little one sleep in a real bed.” 

\-----------------------------------

The next few weeks were hard, to say the least.

There was the moving stuff out of Michael and Virginia’s house, getting Jack situated, avoiding Naomi when possible, and the funeral. 

(Cas hated going to funerals. He hated crying even more. But he did both of those, and then had to explain to a four-year-old why Mommy and Daddy weren’t coming back, all while his mother’s baleful glare pierced him. The one balm was Gabriel showing up very inebriated in a pink sequined suit, claiming that Michael would have loved it.)

And then there was the matter of what to do with Jack. 

“Oh,” Donna said, looking down over her desk at Jack when Cas walked in on his first day of work after the funeral, “And who’s the cutie you’ve got with you?”

“This is my nephew, Jack,” Cas said, smiling, “Jack, say hi to Donna. She’s the secretary.”

“Hi, Donna!” Jack waved.

“How old are you, Jack?” She asked.

“Four,” Jack exclaimed, holding out four fingers, before adding softly, “ _And a half_.”

“Unfortunately,” Cas said, frowning, “We haven’t been able to find a daycare for him yet, so he’s coming to work with me for the time being.”

“This is from the….” Donna’s eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Yes,” Cas nodded, knowing that his expression was turning sober, “It is.”

“Well, Dr. Winchester, if you or Dean need anything, you know who to call.”

“I do,” Cas said, smiling again, even if it was weak, “Thank you. Come on, Jack, let’s go to my office.” 

He had brought with him a bag of some of Jack’s toys and coloring books, in hopes that they would keep his nephew distracted while he worked. That plan went well for about thirty minutes, until Jack asked, “Uncle Cas, where’s Uncle Dean?”

“He’s somewhere else in the home,” Cas replied, “He has to help take care of the residents.”

“Is that his job?”

“Yes, and running the home is my job.”

“So you’re Uncle Dean’s boss?” Cas had forgotten how inquisitive kids could be.

“I guess so, yeah.” Cas smiled a little to himself as he kept working. 

“Do you like your job?”

“Yeah,” Cas said, thinking about the new plants that had been put in all the rooms and common areas, about Jody and Donna waving at him, Charlie’s easy and friendly demeanor from day one (she always said hi), about talking to the residents, “I really do.”

\-----------------------------------

“We’re _great_ at this,” Dean said, “Like, not to brag, but—“

“Honey, you’re bragging.”

“Just to you!” Dean swatted Cas with the dish towel, “C’mon. We got the kiddo fed, bathed, and put to bed all before seven pm.”

“Don’t speak too soon. We’ve only been doing this for a week, and he might wake up.”

“Killjoy of the century, huh?” Dean hung up the dish towel on its hook next to the sink. “Cas. Just try to enjoy the little stuff, okay?”

“Forgive me for being a little upset that we’re taking care of my _dead brother’s son_ ,” Cas snapped. 

Dean stared at him for a moment, before swallowing once and hanging up his apron. “Cas, I’m—“

“No, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to fold like that, and especially not to me. I was being insensitive. Can I—“

“Please.” 

Cas let Dean come to him, pull him into his arms, press Cas’s face to his chest. Cas took a couple of deep, steadying breaths before saying, his voice slightly muffled by Dean’s t-shirt, “Every time we do anything I’m convinced that Michael and Virginia would do it better. And then I think about them, and—“ He had to take another breath. “And I worry about Jack. How this is going to affect him. What if there’s something we could be doing that we’re not taking care of?”

“There’s not a roadmap for this, babe. I wish there was, but…” Dean pulled back, took Cas’s face in his hands, “There’s not. So we have to figure it out. And I’m here for you. Even if I’m an asshole sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Okay, okay, there’s a limit to this stuff.” Dean rolled his eyes. “But, like I said—just call me on it, okay? And I’ll stop.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“You usually do.”

\-----------------------------------

“Castiel Winchester speaking.”

“Dr. Winchester! Just the man I wanted to talk to.”

Cas rolled his eyes, “Hello, Dr. Solomon. Why’re you calling? It’s nearly the Thanksgiving holidays for your office.”

“I know, I know,” Zachariah said, “I just wanted to have a little chat about your proposal.”

 _This isn’t going to be short, is it?_ Cas thought to himself. He sighed and said, “Cut to the chase and tell me what’s wrong.”

“ _Pets_. Pets, plural?” Zachariah asked.

“That is why there’s an s on it,” Cas replied drily.

“That seems like a violation of the health code.”

“What, the s?”

“No, Dr. Winchester, the _pets_.” Zachariah let out a long sigh. “We need specifics. Don’t be surprised—we do this to everyone. Additionally, with a cost investment this large, and with this sort of liability, we’ll want to have a meeting.”

“Oh?”

“Downtown, preferably, in our offices.”

Well.

Apparently Cas wouldn’t just be able to pull a Naomi.

\-----------------------------------

Cas frowned at his phone.

It was the day after Thanksgiving (also known as Dean’s second favorite day of the year, owing to how much pie one was allowed to eat), and Cas was sitting at the kitchen table while Dean bustled around putting away leftovers. (Jack was _finally_ napping.)

“What’s up?” Dean asked, standing behind Cas and wrapping his arms around him, “You look like you just swallowed a lemon.”

“Mother texted me. She….wants Jack to come to them for Christmas. Says it’s her right, as the grandmother.”

“Like hell it is.” 

“ _Dean_.” 

“Look.” Dean removed himself from Cas, sitting next to him instead and laying a hand on his knee. “I’m pretty sure I have the crappiest in-laws, because you have the crappiest parents.”

“Don’t forget, they’re actually just your friends,” Cas said drily, “Since you’re not my husband, apparently.”

“Don’t remind me.” Dean sighed, “You don’t have to let them see him.”

“But he shouldn’t be totally cut off from his family, even if—“ Cas took a deep breath, “I don’t want to be as bad as them, Dean. I want to do the right thing.”

“Okay….” Dean took Cas’s hand, “I have an idea. What if…they came here? So that he doesn’t get too far out of our sight? I know another worry is them trying to keep him. And we could invite my mom and Sammy and Jess. And Gabriel, too. It could be a whole thing.”

“Are you seriously suggesting we recreate _Christmas Vacation_ in our own house?”

“Me? Get an idea from a Chevy Chase movie?” Dean stared out the window, “Never. Look, babe, this is just an idea. But it lets you be the nice guy while keeping Jack safe. There’s no telling what he might end up like if _they_ raise him.”

“And if they took him…” Cas swallowed, “We might never see him again. They were always against Michael staying in contact with Gabriel and I.”

“I know.” Dean ran a gentle thumb over the back of Cas’s hand, “I think it’ll all work out. It usually does.” 

“Right.”

“If all else fails…” Dean’s face adopted a wicked grin, “I would love to see Naomi and my mom together.”

“Mary is….” Cas mused for a good word to describe his mother-in-law, “Strong-willed.”

“You can say that again. I’ll text Sammy and Mom, see if they think I’m full of shit. You think on it.” Dean stood up, pressing a kiss to Cas’s forehead as he headed to the stove, “I promised Jack pancakes since we had the morning off.” He busied himself at the stove for a few minutes before adding, “Maybe you could encourage Gabe to bring one of his coworkers from the strip club with him, posing as a fake partner. Just to piss your parents off a little more.”

“Dean!”

“What?” Dean was grinning, “It’s not a bad idea.”

Cas sighed and went back to looking at his phone, but this time there was a smile on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> worry not--there are more happy times later on! also this chapter includes one of my favorite exchanges of dialogue of the whole story--it's near the end. can you guess what it is?
> 
> next chapter goes up Thursday!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter includes some homophobia and a panic attack. but it also includes some smushy family time!

**_“For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can't readily accept the God formula, the big answers don't remain stone-written.” —Charles Bukowski_ **

Before Cas knew it, December had rolled around, and with it, his meeting at the health department’s offices in downtown Kansas City. He had left the doctor’s coat at home, traded his normal collection of blue ties (solid, striped, checkered—didn’t matter, as long as they were blue) for a green-and-grey striped one (Dean said it was perfect, and—okay. Maybe it took a  _ little  _ bit longer to get ready after that. So sue him.), and now he was checking his dress shoes for scuffs.

“C’mon, babe,” Dean said, “This Dr. Solomon guy’s a schmuck. I  _ know  _ it. He’s come to inspect before—you’ll eat him up.”

“You take me to be much more convincing than I am,” Cas said, deciding that he was satisfied with his appearance and turning away from the mirror, only to run smack into Dean. 

Dean took a moment to kiss him, long, soft, and slow, before holding Cas by the shoulders. “You’re going to do great. You’re passionate, funny, thoughtful—and incredibly professional. I can promise you that Dr. Solomon won’t be wearing a tie.”

“Am I—am I overdressed?” Cas asked, reaching up to the knot of his tie, “Because I can—“

“Nope!” Dean steered Cas out of their bedroom, “No more waiting! Let’s go!”

“Will you be fine taking Jack?” Cas asked, “You can leave him with Dr. Mills or Donna, or in the living room at the home if you need too—“

“Yes, Cas. Stop worrying, okay? This parenting gig isn’t a one-man show. Jack and I can take care of ourselves.”

“Don’t forget to make sure that his carseat is strapped into the backseat.”

“Babe.” Dean maneuvered Cas downstairs, grabbing his briefcase off of the couch before dragging him into the entryway. “You’ve got this, and Jack’s gonna have a great day with Uncle Dean.” He pressed a kiss to Cas’s cheek. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Cas laughed, a breathless, momentary ing, and then headed out the front door and climbed into his truck. He took a couple of deep breaths, stilling his hands on the wheel, before cranking it up and maneuvering his way out of the driveway to head downtown.

They had actually been downtown just the past weekend, to get out of the house and off of the land, and to have something to do with Jack. That was the one downside to living in the countryfied outskirts of Kansas City—beautiful as it was, it was a pain to go anywhere, and there were no playgrounds or anything. Jack had been delighted by the amount of dogs he could see and the drugstore they had stopped at for milkshakes, despite the chill. Now, though, Christmas wreaths had popped up, and the streets practically glittered. Yeah, they were going to have to come back downtown soon so Jack could see this.

He carefully parallel parked in front of the municipal building and made sure to lock the door to his truck, resisting the urge to text Dean and make sure everything was fine on his end. It wasn’t that Cas didn’t trust Dean—Dean was probably the person Cas trusted most in the world—but this was…new.

Cas wasn’t the sort of person who made a habit of putting himself out there. He nearly hadn’t applied to medical school all those years ago because he was too worried about being rejected or getting ridiculed when he got there. (Naomi and Charles hadn’t exactly  _ helped  _ inspire him, either.) Now, at the age of thirty-six, Cas felt like he really ought to be able to hold his own but—no. The thought of having a meeting with some health department officials to get pets for his nursing home was making his palms sweat.

“Cowboy up, Cas,” he muttered to himself, something Dean said fairly often, and then made his way to the municipal building. 

_ You’ve got this. _

“Dr. Winchester!” Zachariah pumped his hand enthusiastically as soon as Cas walked into the health department office. “You’re even better than in your picture. How are you and the husband?”

“Fine,” Cas said awkwardly. He wasn’t accustomed to someone just  _ asking  _ about Dean, not here in  _ Kansas _ , but maybe Zachariah was overcompensating, since there was no wife to ask about and perhaps he didn’t want to seem rude.

“The holidays are a busy time, of course, so  _ thank you  _ for coming in. Do take a seat!”

Cas sat in the chair left in front of Zachariah’s desk—behind the desk were two other men. Zachariah introduced them as Dr. Uriel Winters and Mr. Raphael Brown, and Cas inclined his head politely.

“So, Castiel—can I call you Castiel?” Raphael started in a deep midwestern twang, “I understand that you want to get some pets over at your place.”

“Yes, sir,” Cas replied, “Studies have shown that having animal companions is beneficial to the elderly—“ Here, Cas bent and pulled a file of print-outs from his briefcase, “And at the moment, our nursing staff is such that not all of the residents can get quality conversation time. I even take time out of my day to make rounds and talk to people.”

“Every day?” Uriel said, leaning forwards, “Impressive.”

“Well, our residents deserve the best care we can offer. We’ve already introduced live plants instead of fake ones—it’s been a massive success—and I believe that pets could—“

“What kind of pets?” Raphael asked.

“Uh, cats and dogs—I was thinking two of each. And…” Cas took a deep breath, “Birds. One for each resident.”

“Birds?!” All three of the other men said at once, and then Zachariah started, “Dr. Winchester, I’m afraid that birds would be quite out of the—“

“Look,” Cas thrust his sheaf of printouts onto the desk, “Extensive research has been done, and Paradise Point would not be the first to—“

“Have birds?” Raphael frowned, “That’s impossible.”

“The answer is no,” Zachariah said, “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” 

Cas took a deep breath. This was the part where he would fold, easy-peasy, to what they thought was appropriate. 

_ Was  _ the part.

“You haven’t looked at my research,” Cas said, “Or considered the budget I’ve drawn up. Until you do that—I’m not taking no for an answer. I did a lot of work, and I’d like you to do some, too.”

They just stared at him until Zachariah cleared his throat, “I am unclear if—“

“It doesn’t seem appropriate to have animals,” Raphael said, “What with your—“

“Condition?” Uriel turned on Raphael, “For the last time, Mr. Brown, homosexuality is not—“

“You can just say ‘being gay,’” Cas said, his voice tired. He thought about how much Dean would mock him, were he here right now, for the air quotes. “And, for the record, it doesn’t make me incompetent. I’m a doctor. I did emergency room work for five years. Now I manage a nursing home. My husband’s a nurse. We have a kid, my brother’s son. So pets aren’t really the issue here, are they?”

“I—“

“Dr. Winchester,” Uriel said, leaning back in his chair, “We will consider your proposal as impartially as possible and have a verdict for you in the new year.”

“Thank you.” Cas was out of Zachariah’s office faster than, well, anything. He willed himself to walk at a normal speed back to his truck before climbing in, throwing his briefcase into the passenger’s seat, and leaning his head on the steering wheel.

_ Breathe,  _ he thought to himself,  _ just breathe. It’s okay. You got out of there, and— _

And it was  _ terrifying _ . 

Cas took a deep breath again, picking his head up before shakily dialing Jody’s number and letting her know that he was going to be out for the rest of the day—he wasn’t feeling well. 

Cas knew exactly what was happening—it had happened time and time again, hence the therapy in college that Dean knew about. He was having a panic attack—he could feel himself slipping as his breathing quickened and the world around him started to fade away. He tried to grip the truck’s wheel to ground himself, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them again, but all that resulted was him seeing stars. 

Cas wasn’t sure how much time passed before he became fully cognizant of his surroundings again. He felt worn out, like he had gone forty-eight hours without sleep, like he did after a week of back-to-back twelve-hour emergency room shifts. He felt like curling up in his truck on the bench seat and just closing his eyes but he—he had to get back home. 

When he finally made it back to the house, his phone had three missed calls on it from his husband, and a text reading  _ everything alright? jody said you called in sick.  _

_ It’s fine,  _ Cas texted back, before falling back onto the couch, suit and all.

\-----------------------------------

“He’s in here, Uncle Dean!”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

Cas’s eyes flickered open to the sight of Dean kneeling next to the couch, and Jack standing next to him.

“Are you okay, Uncle Cas?” Jack asked.

“Just tired.” Cas tried to sit up, but his limbs felt heavy. 

“This will make you better,” Jack said, before throwing his arms around Cas’s neck and squeezing.

“It did help,” Cas said, eking out a smile, “Thanks.”

“C’mon, Jack,” Dean said, “Why don’t you go play with your trains and let Uncle Cas rest since he doesn’t feel well?”

Jack didn’t need any more prodding than that—he  _ loved  _ trains—and as soon as he was out of the room, Dean turned his attention back to Cas. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“It’s—it’s nothing.”

“Cas, sweetheart, I’m not mad. I’m just concerned. You just…disappeared, and didn’t tell me what was wrong.” Dean’s green eyes were wide with worry. “What’s wrong?” He asked again.

“I—I had a panic attack today. After the meeting.” Cas felt like he might throw up.

“Did it go badly?” 

“No, well…not really. They were going to outright refuse, but I convinced them to take a look at my research before they decided…but one of the men was…homophobic, I guess. He thought we shouldn’t have dogs at Paradise Point because of—“ Now Cas pulled out the air-quotes for Dean, “‘My condition.’ I stood my ground, but then—“

“It was too much? Budge over.”

Cas scooted over, and Dean wedged himself onto the couch next to Cas. He didn’t speak at first, just taking Cas’s hand and holding it to his own heart, but eventually Dean took a breath and said, “I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Even if it was scary.”

“I’m thirty-six, Dean. This shouldn’t scare me anymore.”

“Who says?” 

“…Me.”

“Well, babe, you’re wrong. Hate to break it to you, but life’s not that simple.”

“As you are wont to remind me.”

“Because I  _ am  _ right.”

“Of course you are.” Cas rolled slightly so he could bury his head in Dean’s shoulder. “It’s just frustrating, and I feel—I feel physically ill.”

“Hmmm…” Dean said, in the tone of voice that confirmed he was about to say something annoyingly right, “I’m remembering a night about nine, ten years ago. You’d just watched a patient die for the first time, and I was the nurse attending in the room. You nearly lost your shit once we got out—I’d only known you for, like, two weeks. Do you remember that?"

Cas nodded. 

Dean took that as an invitation to keep going. “You were having a panic attack. I had learned about how to deal with those in nursing school—so I sat you down, got you some water, in a quiet place, and just…sat. You told me the same stuff back then. You said you were twenty-six and ‘too old’ to be feeling this kind of anxiety, that you felt physically ill and like a burden. You were wrong then, and you’re wrong now.”

Cas lifted his head up to look at Dean, and Dean smiled at him sadly.

“Do you think you’re a burden to me now?” Dean asked, his voice soft, “Because you never have been, and you never will be. It’s my job to take care of you.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Cas said.

“Good thing we’re married, because I’m going to spend the rest of time convincing you that you do. Now,” Dean sat up, “Want to go play trains with a certain four-year-old before dinner?”

\-----------------------------------

“Mom!” Dean ran halfway down the drive to meet his mother’s car, and then nearly leapt on her with a hug when the car stopped next to Cas in front of the garage and she got out. It was December twenty-third, two days before Christmas—the perfect time to have family over.

“Hi, Cas,” she said, once she had disentangled herself from Dean, “How are you?”

“Not bad,” Cas said to Mary, “You?”

“The drive was fine, not too long. I’m grateful that you two stayed in Kansas. Can’t say the same for my younger son.”

“When are Sam and Jess getting here anyway?” Dean asked.

“This afternoon,” Cas sighed, “Dean, have you listened to anything I’ve said over the past few days?”

“Of course not.” 

Mary let out a laugh at that, and then Dean and Cas were helping her bring her bags and presents inside. Jack was waiting in the entryway with Rubicon. 

“Mom,” Dean said, “This is Jack, our nephew. Jack, do you know who this is?”

“Your mommy,” Jack said, smiling up at Mary, “You’re pretty.”

“Thank you, Jack. It’s very nice to meet you.” 

“Let me help you with your bags, Mary,” Cas said, grabbing her suitcase.

“Jack’s very sweet,” Mary said to Cas in a low whisper as he helped her to the guest room. 

“It’s been surprisingly easy having him here. Dean’s a great parent,” Cas replied, trying not to sound too terribly sappy, “Although he has a great mom, so…”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Cas, I already like you.” Mary laughed, and they headed back to the living room.

“I told my family to get here tomorrow,” Cas said, once they were all settled on the couch, with Jack happily playing with blocks on the floor. “So that we could have a night of peace.  _ And  _ I told them Christmas ends a day before it does. Well, Charles and Naomi on that second one. I figured Gabe could stay.”

“You remember Gabe, right, Mom? From the wedding? Crazy guy in the blue paisley suit?” Dean asked.

“I wouldn’t call him….” Cas trailed off, “No, honey, you’re right. My brother is nuts.”

“I can’t wait to see who he brings,” Dean leaned back, crossing his legs and propping them on the coffee table, “I don’t even have to try to make Naomi hate me, but it always seems like Gabriel is trying to get a rise out of her.”

“Should I be worried about Naomi?” Mary asked, “I mean, I’ve never met her.”

“Everyone should be worried about Naomi,” Dean said drily, “She’s the worst.”

“Shhhh…” Cas said, “Little ears. We don’t want him to hate her because of us, remember?”

“Ah, yes,” Dean lowered his voice slightly, “How could I forget that she desperately wants to raise him in such a way that he grows up to hate  _ us  _ instead.”

“This,” Mary sighed, “Sounds like it’s going to be quite a Christmas.” 

\-----------------------------------

Sam and Jess did get there in the afternoon, as promised, and Jack instantly took to them, too. Soon enough, they were all spread out in the living room, opting to eat pizza for dinner while watching  _ Home Alone  _ instead of eating in the kitchen—Cas hoped that the movie wouldn’t give Jack (or Dean) any wise ideas.

“So, how’s work?” Sam asked around a piece of pizza, causing Jess to smack his shoulder. Mary had joked time and time again that Jess and Cas were the kids she was keeping if anything ever went south in either relationship, but everyone knew she was (mostly) kidding. Dean and Sam were just enough alike and just enough different to be frustrating but fun to be around. 

“It’s good,” Dean said, “Always is. Our new director’s pretty good…” He nudged Cas, and Cas blushed.

“I’m doing my best,” he said.

“Don’t be modest!” Mary interjected, bending over to wipe sauce off of Jack’s face with a napkin, “From what Dean tells me, you’re really revolutionizing the place.”

“There are plants now,” Dean said, “Real ones.” He didn't mention the pet proposal, but he did squeeze Cas’s hand. 

Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in Monday's update: the long-awaited Damboise-Winchester Family Christmas Fiasco! it's a fun chapter (and there just might be a little bit of smut in it? maybe?)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: some homophobia, a lil smut scene at the end of the chapter <3
> 
> also, there is a playlist for this fic that I made back in November that I keep forgetting to share xP so [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1lZzdmPeTzpMEkfU8gT2lt) it is!

_**“You must remember, family is often born of blood, but it doesn't depend on blood. Nor is it exclusive of friendship. Family members can be your best friends, you know. And best friends, whether or not they are related to you, can be your family.” —Trenton Lee Stewart** _

Christmas Eve dawned cold but clear, with a promise of snow in the weather forecast…and a promise of the Damboises pounding on the door at noon sharp—or, to be precise, the parental portion of the Damboises.

“Uh…” Dean looked between the two families. “Mom, this is Naomi, Cas’s mother.”

“Mary Winchester,” Mary said, sticking out a hand, “Nice to meet you.

Naomi didn’t shake.

“And this is my father,” Cas added, “Charles.” Charles at least dignified Mary with a little wave.

“Over here,” Dean continued, “Is my brother Sam and his wife, Jess.”

“How are you?” Jess asked, waving a little bit. Cas had always thought that Sam had somehow found one of the nicest people on the planet to fall in love with—Jess was all smiles, but she was also pretty good at standing firm when she needed to. 

“Gabriel told me he would be here an hour ago,” Cas said, “Which means he’ll be here in about two and a half hours.”

This got a laugh out of the Winchesters, but Naomi and Charles just stared, so Cas scrambled for what to say next. Dean came to the rescue, “How about we put your bags down and then take a tour? I know this is your first time here.” He said it with just the right amount of bite, as if to remind them that they had never been here because they had been busy refusing to acknowledge that Cas and Dean were even married.

“Can I come, too?” Jack asked from his perch on Dean’s shoulders.

“Of course, kiddo, but let’s get you down so you’re easier to carry,” Dean replied.

Once Jack was on the ground, Naomi and Charles each awkwardly hugged them in turn. Jack immediately ran back to stand between Cas and Dean before tugging on Cas’s hand, “Uncle Cas? Can we have hot chocolate later?”

“Sure,” Cas grinned, “It’s Christmas, after all.” 

Naomi didn’t say anything, but her eyes were like daggers.

\-------------------------

There was nothing like sitting by the fire, drinking hot cider and hot chocolate, looking at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree as snow fell outside, dappling everything with magic…unless, of course, one was doing all of those things with Naomi and Charles Damboise.

The one balm was that Gabriel had, in fact, brought a friend from the strip club he worked at--Connor, who was nice and had a big smile and nodded helpfully. Connor was also definitely twenty-five at most in terms of age, but he was really good with kids (Jack had cottoned onto him immediately), and he was gay enough to drive Naomi up the wall.

(Really, Cas thought, him marrying a man should have been enough for her, but apparently she could be driven more. Currently she was alternating staring daggers at Connor, who was coloring with Jack, and Dean, who had one arm around Cas. Well, let her stare. She’d live.)

Cas wasn’t sure where all of his vindictive thoughts were coming from, because he was glad to have Mary, Sam, Jess, Gabriel, and yeah, even Connor, there with him, Dean, and Jack for the holidays. He was determined not to let his parents damper his happiness at seeing his family. 

But what he did know is that his internal monologue was a lot more spiteful than usual, and he was mentally almost _daring_ Naomi to jump into the conversation that Gabriel, Dean, and Jess were having about _Dr. Sexy, M.D._

(Cas had a few opinions, but not enough to join in—he mostly watched _Dr. Sexy_ with Dean to make him happy. He had a great time, though, exchanging glances with Mary and Sam every time Dean mentioned Dr. Sexy’s cowboy boots.) 

But no, his parents stayed mercifully (and shockingly) quiet and polite through relaxing, dinner, a bout of Christmas carols, and then carefully laying out the cookies for Santa. Charles did try to make some small talk with Mary about what it was like to work a nine-to-five, but being a teacher was a lot different than being a banker, and he eventually gave up. 

Finally, everyone else was ready for bed—the presents were underneath the tree, the aforementioned milk and cookies set out, and Dean and Cas were settling into their bed, when they heard a noise from down the hall, like a whimper or a cry.

“Jack’s room,” Dean whispered, his breath warm on Cas’s cheek, “Should we go check?”

“Yeah.”

They slipped out of bed and headed down the hall to find Jack sitting up in his bed, sniffling and grasping his stuffed rabbit tightly.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked Jack, his voice soft.

“I miss Mommy and Daddy.” There were tears in Jack’s voice.

“Do you wanna sleep with Uncle Cas and I?” Dean asked. Jack nodded once and Dean scooped him up. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s snuggle up.”

Cas, Dean, and Jack found themselves intercepted by Naomi once they stepped out of the room. 

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Taking care of our nephew,” Cas replied, matching her coldness.

“I don’t think—“ she started, but Cas cut her off,

“Dean, go put Jack to bed.”

“You got it.” Dean leaned in, pressed a gentle kiss to Cas’s forehead, and padded off with Jack in his arms to their room.

“Why are you taking him to your room?” Naomi hissed.

“Because he’s sad, and we’re his guardians. We’re taking care of him.” Cas frowned.

“But you shouldn’t be.”

Cas wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the past few months—trying to get the health department to agree to his plan for Paradise Point, dealing with the deaths of Michael and Virginia, assuming care of Jack, but after thirty-six years of never talking back to his parents, Cas finally snapped.

“I know that you’ve never accepted me for who I am, but I don’t need your approval to live my life. I am not incompetent or irresponsible because I’m gay. You can say your god preaches love as much as you want, but until you actually love unconditionally, you’re a _fraud._ ”

“How dare you speak like that to—“

Cas cut her off again, “You have _never_ treated me like your son, so why should I listen to you like a mother?”

Just then, Mary wandered in, her long, greying-blonde hair in a messy bun and her Christmas pajamas that matched everyone else’s slightly askew.

“I heard shouting,” she said, “What’s going on?”

“Cas is—“ Naomi started, but Mary cut her off, too, 

“I heard what you said. Cas is a good guy. He takes incredible care of his patients, and until he met Cas, I had never seen Dean so happy.” Mary’s eyes flashed with anger, and Cas felt a weird need to laugh. It was two am on Christmas morning and his mother-in-law was defending him to his actual mother. 

Also, pissing Mary Winchester off was, in Cas’s experience, a markedly bad idea. 

“If he’s so good, then why is he—“

“If you say _gay_ , so help me God…” Mary’s scowl deepened, “You’re lucky Cas is nicer than me, because I never would have invited you here.” 

And Mary and Naomi had met less than forty-eight hours ago. 

Naomi glowered back and then returned to Charles and the guest room.

“Cas,” Mary said, “You can go to bed.”

“Mary, I—“

“You don’t owe Naomi anything, Cas. I meant what I said. You’re a good person. You changed Dean’s life.”

“I didn’t try to.”

“I know.” She pulled him into a hug. “But you need sleep. You and Dean have to go to the home in the afternoon.”

“Right. Thank you.”

“You’re family. It’s the least I could do.”

Cas walked back to his and Dean’s room, feeling an odd combination of joy and sadness. After this, his relationship with his parents might be completely shredded—if it wasn’t already. 

When he climbed into bed, Dean and Jack were already asleep again, Jack curled up in Dean’s arms. Cas settled next Jack and Dean’s eyes flickered open. 

“What happened?” Dean whispered.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Cas whispered back, “Go to sleep.”

\-------------------------

Cas woke up on Christmas morning proper with a four-year-old jumping on him. 

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Cas!” Jack said, throwing himself on top of Cas, “Uncle Dean’s not here.”

“He’s probably in the kitchen,” Cas said, yawning, “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mmm-hmm. But I’m _tired_ of sleeping. Can we go downstairs?”

“Yes,” Cas rolled out of bed before scooping Jack up in his arms, “Let’s go pester Uncle Dean.”

Dean was, in fact, in the kitchen. Sam, Jess, and Mary were already sitting around their kitchen table, drinking coffee. Dean was at the stove, doing _something_. Cas set Jack down and he instantly ran over to Dean, wrapping his arms around his legs, “Uncle Dean! Merry Christmas!” 

“Merry Christmas to you too, kiddo. You wanna know what I’m doing?”

“What?” 

“Making special pancakes. Do you want to help?”

“Yes!”

Dean pulled out the step stool and stood Jack on it, starting to instruct Jack on something involving chocolate chips.

Cas poured himself his own cup of coffee and sat down at the table, “Gabriel not up yet?”

“Haven’t seen him, or Connor, either,” Mary said, “How are you?”

“I’m…” Cas sighed, “I don’t know what I expected. Naomi has always been like this.”

“Still crappy,” Sam said.

“I know…” Cas glanced over at the stove, at Dean helping Jack measure something and sighed, “But she doesn’t accept me. She pretends like Dean and I aren’t married. She still refers to me on emails and such as Castiel Damboise. I haven’t been a Damboise for over six years.”

“Why does she seem to hate you more than Gabe?” Sam asked.

“Because Gabe is….Gabe doesn’t give a shit.” Cas frowned. “It’s like she thinks I would be perfect, if I wasn’t gay, and that Gabe’s just too far gone. And now that she’s lost her perfect son…” Cas tried to imagine what this scene would be like if Michael was here, but he also knew that none of this would be happening if Michael and Virginia were still alive. Things had changed too much.

“What about Charles?” Jess asked.

“He likes me more. He sided with me on the whole Michael thing. But…she’s never going to forgive me. She sees it as us choosing to kill her son, but Michael was…” Cas swallowed, “Already dead.”

Mary lay a gentle hand on his shoulder, “It’ll all work out. I miss John every day, but over time it’s gotten better and better.”

Cas smiled, “I know. Thank you.”

Gabriel walked in with Connor on his arm, both of their pajama shirts unbuttoned, “Good morning, and merry Christmas!”

“Gabe, _please_ button up,” Cas said, sighing, “There’s a kid here.”

“He’ll see worse.” Gabe yawned. “I heard you got in an argument with our dear mother last night.” He ruffled Cas’s hair. “Way to go, little brother, finally speaking your mind.” 

So maybe his parents weren’t in the room.

But this was the best Christmas he’d had in years.

\-------------------------

Later, around lunchtime, Dean and Cas were in their room, getting ready to head to the home and make their rounds. Jack was downstairs, playing with his new train set—Sam had volunteered to watch him, and Cas had noticed Jess’s face melt at that. 

Dean had chosen red scrubs— _festive—_ and Cas was dithering over which tie to wear, when Dean finally spoke.

“So. It’s later. What happened with Naomi?”

“She, uh….I may have lost it a bit, finally snapped at her, when she said we were bad guardians. And then your mother showed up and ripped her a bit of a new one.”

“ _Glorious_. But also…” Dean maneuvered around their bed before pulling Cas into his arms, “Are you okay?” 

"I guess….brunch this morning was…”

“Something else?” Dean nodded, “Yeah, I really enjoyed your mother pointedly only talking to Gabriel, Jack, and Jess. The rest of us somehow managed to avoid her wrath.”

“Connor must be having a field day, just getting to eat chocolate chip pancakes and watch us.” 

“You know…” Cas pulled away from Dean, fiddled with his tie in the mirror, “I think that maybe….maybe Connor isn’t a _fake_ boyfriend. What do you think?”

“Huh.” Dean shrugged, “Maybe so. It would track. Here, let me.”

“If you always fix my tie for me, I’m never gonna learn how to do it myself.”

“Hopefully you won’t ever have to do it without me, then,” Dean smirked at him, then used Cas’s tie in his hands to pull Cas in for a kiss. “Let’s go check on our patients.”

\-------------------------

Everyone at Paradise Point was in the holiday spirit, although some of the residents were disappointed that Cas and Dean hadn’t brought Jack along with them. 

“Dr. Winchester!” Cas heard a voice call, and he turned around to see Harold waving at him from his wheelchair, which was by the living room window.

“Merry Christmas, Harold,” Cas said, weaving his way through the other residents, “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. It’s always nice to live to see another one.” Harold motioned to the chair next to him. “Sit down, Doctor. I have a little something to show you.”

“Oh?” Cas raised an eyebrow, but sat down.

“I am so excited,” Harold said, “For the cats coming in the new year. And the other animals, but the cats especially. When I still lived at my house, I had a cat. Her name was Sophie. She was a calico.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“Do you have any pets?”

“Yes,” Cas smiled, “We have a dog, a golden retriever named Rubicon.”

“You’ll have to show me pictures sometime.” Harold grinned and then held aloft the plant he had clutched in his lap, “If there’s one thing I know cats like, it’s catnip, so I thought I would try my hand at growing some. What do you think?”

Cas peered at the little sprouts in the pot. The soil looked dark and healthy, and the plants small but strong. He turned his gaze back up to Harold. “This is wonderful.”

“I hope it brings some joy to this place.”

“I’m sure it will.” 

\-------------------------

“We,” Naomi said, “Need to talk.” 

“Can you give us a sec to get off our coats? We _just_ got back,” Dean said, his voice slightly gruff, as he and Cas shouldered their way back into their house. Naomi huffed and left the entryway. 

“Good god,” Dean muttered, “What the hell?”

“I have a feeling that last night is about to come back to us.” Cas swallowed down the knot forming in his throat. 

“Hey,” Dean met his eyes, “Whatever she says, she’s full of shit.”

“Right, right.” Cas wasn’t entirely sure he believed him, though.

When they headed into the living room, Naomi was in the middle of saying something to Mary. As soon as she noticed Dean and Cas, she whipped around, pointing a finger at them accusingly. “This _woman_ says that you two are capable!”

“We are,” Dean said, “And her name is _Mary_.” 

“Whatever. The point is, this is no place for a child to grow up. The environment and influences are entirely wrong.”

“Don’t _whatever_ my mother-in-law,” Cas said, “If you’re in my house, you’re going to be polite to my family.”

“If you’re going to treat us like that,” Naomi said, “Like second-class citizens, then we’re _leaving._ We are cutting off ties with _both_ of you.”

“Oh, wow, such a hardship,” Gabriel drawled, his crop top riding up, “To not have to be in contact with my nagging mother anymore. What a tragedy!”

“Gabriel Anthony Damboise, how dare you—“

Gabriel cut her off at the chase, “No, Naomi, how dare _you_. You rag into Cas and I all the time because we’re not the picture perfect example of what you want us to be, and now you’re trying to drag Jack and the Winchesters into your petty little battle. So leave. Get out of here. It’s not like we want to see you much, anyways.”

“Castiel, this is your house. Surely you don’t agree with your brother.”

“Oh,” Cas said coldly, “I do. If you don’t want to be here, _good_.”

She narrowed her gaze before turning around and practically _flouncing_ back to the entryway, out the front door. “Charles?” She called from the front walk, “Are you coming?”

Charles looked between Gabriel and Cas before finally saying, in a soft, broken voice, “Cas. I’m so sorry.” And then he was gone too.

“Did he….” Gabriel stared at the now-empty space where they had been, “He just called you Cas.” He turned to Cas, “He’s _never_ called you Cas. Neither of our parents have.”

“I….” Cas stared at an indiscriminate spot on the floor, “I know.”

Dean ran a thumb over the back of Cas’s hand, and Cas lifted his gaze to meet Dean’s. Dean raised an eyebrow, and Cas nodded once. Dean said, “Well, guys, I made chili for lunch, so I guess we can eat that and uh….unwind?”

\-------------------------

“How are you?” Dean whispered that night, shifting into their bed. 

“I’m okay,” Cas said, swallowing, “I’m…I’m fine.”

“Are you really?”

Cas shook his head and buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, pressing his screwed-shut eyes into the soft, thin cotton. 

Dean pulled the comforter over them before wrapping his arms around Cas. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked, his voice calm, soft, even. 

“I…” Cas didn’t know how to reply. His chest hurt, it hurt so much. He had always awaited the day when his parents would leave him alone, wouldn’t make him listen to all the shit they had to say anymore, but this…this was worse, somehow. It was proof that they didn’t really want him. 

Except for Charles.

Cas didn’t know what to think about his father, the man who had sided with him against Naomi in the case of Michael, the man who had been reluctant to follow her out the door, the man who had, for the first time in his life, called him _Cas,_ not _Castiel_ , because _Castiel_ was an embodiment of everything that he could never be, not for them.

He didn’t know what to think but he did know that he didn’t _want_ to think, that he wanted to get this awful, grating feeling out of his chest and replace it with something, _anything_. The easiest thing to replace it with was right here, if he just….seized Dean’s shirt and rolled over him in their bed, kissing him hard, all tongue and teeth.

Dean pulled back, as if he sensed Cas’s intentions, and asked, with his palm on Cas’s cheek, “Are you sure…are you sure you want this? Like, you’re okay?”

“I’m…just let me have this.” Cas didn’t mean for his voice to waver, but it did. There was a pause, brief but long enough for a breath, and then Dean pulled Cas down on top of him, sealing their lips together. Normally, they were sweet and gentle with each other, but this was harder, more desperate, and Cas could tell that this train was going to get to the station faster than usual. 

Dean’s hands were curious and quick to push down Cas’s pajama pants (Cas kicked them off to help), eager to take Cas in his hand, but Cas stopped him, breaking the kiss, which was getting open-mouthed and desperate, to pull Dean’s shirt off and trail kisses down his chest, down to his navel, and to push down Dean’s pajamas and move his mouth to Dean’s inner thighs, where the skin was soft and warm and sensitive. 

“Cas,” Dean groaned.

Slowly, slowly, _slowly_ , Cas pushed Dean’s boxers down, and then trailed tantalizing kisses down Dean’s hard cock. 

“ _Cas.”_

Cas ran his tongue over Dean’s slit, and then sunk him down completely. Dean’s hips bucked up, and Cas stilled himself, putting his hands on Dean’s now-trembling thighs, letting Dean fuck his face until he came, gasping Cas’s name, his hands in Cas’s hair. 

Dean pulled Cas back up to kiss him, taking the opportunity to finally really take Cas in his hand, and it didn’t take much. It was wet and Cas was desperate, thrusting into Dean’s hand. 

They slumped against each other, Dean tracing gentle circles with his hand on Cas’s back. He pressed a kiss to Cas’s shoulder before whispering, “You’re not okay, are you?”

Cas shook his head.

“That’s alright. One day, okay? One day it’ll be okay.”

Cas thought to himself that he might be named after an angel, but he had definitely married one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the scene where Mary rips into Naomi is one of my favorite of the whole fic xP we stan a strong woman! 
> 
> in Thursday's update: cas gets some exciting news, Charles may or may not reappear, and we meet some other fan-favorite characters!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there are any warnings for this chapter. I'm glad I have this fic about death and dying and nursing homes already written, though, because I got a call last night that my grandfather is sick and the prognosis is...not great. So hopefully things take a turn for the better. 
> 
> Also, thank you all for your continued support of this fic :) it means a lot <3

**_“He looked tired but at that moment, as we sat at the kitchen table, there was something young about him. And I thought that maybe he was changing into someone else. Everyone was always becoming someone else.” —Benjamin Alire Sáenz_ **

Before Cas knew it, the Christmas holidays had ended, the Winchesters and his brother Gabe (who hadn’t really admitted to being with Connor but had gotten close) had returned to their respective homes, and the new year had come and gone. 

(He and Dean had gone to their usual New Year’s Eve party with some of their friends from Kansas City, but had quickly discovered that being, well, parents meant that they couldn’t stay out  _ quite  _ as late as they used to.)

It was time to really get back to work at Paradise Point. They still hadn’t found a daycare or preschool for Jack, but Cas had decided that, as Jack would go to kindergarten the next fall, it wouldn’t do too much harm to bring Jack with him to work for the remainder. Maybe in the summer they could get a babysitter or find a camp, but for now, he liked having his nephew in his office. 

It was a bonus that the residents loved Jack—Rita always gave him caramel candy, Rufus with the broken hip would pinch Jack’s cheeks, and Harold talked to Jack as if he was a wise adult and not a four-and-a-half (well, almost five now) year old. 

Better than going on rounds with Jack, though, was walking into the home’s living room and seeing Jack sitting on the couch with some of the residents, watching television with them or being read to or just babbling to them. 

One night near the end of January, after Jack had been put to bed, Cas and Dean were in their living room, curled up on the couch. Dean was busy scrolling through Netflix, trying to find a good movie for their weekly “date night,” and Cas was busy distracting him from that task as much as possible.

“You know,” Cas said, from his position halfway in Dean’s lap, “Why didn’t we become parents sooner?”

Dean pressed a kiss to his cheek, “We didn’t think we would have the time.”

“We were wrong.”

“Clearly. What do you think about…watching  _ Die Hard _ ?”

“Dean, we’ve seen that movie about ten times.”

“Do you have any  _ better  _ ideas for date night?” 

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Cas turned himself around so he could better kiss Dean.

(The movie ended up being completely forgotten.) 

\----------------------------

“Dr. Winchester, I have a call for you from the health department,” Donna said as soon as Dean, Jack, and Cas walked into the nursing home the next morning. 

“Is it…” Cas rearranged his features, into something he hoped resembled not-panic, “Good news?”

She shrugged, “I can’t tell. I hope so.” 

“Me too. Transfer them to my phone, will you?”

“No problem.” 

Dean smiled softly at Cas and gave him a mini-salute as they parted ways—Dean to his nurse’s station, where Charlie was already peering at medicine bottles, Cas and Jack to Cas’s office. 

Cas picked up his office phone instantly, balancing it between his shoulder and his ear while he helped Jack get situated with all his coloring books and toys in the corner. 

“Dr. Castiel Winchester speaking,” Cas said.

“Dr. Winchester! Just the man I was hoping to speak to.” 

Cas switched the phone to his other ear, sighing at the sound of Zachariah’s voice, “How are you, Dr. Solomon?”

“Never better. Look, I’m calling you about your proposal, about all those birds and cats and dogs.”

“I figured as much.” Cas hoped Zachariah would just get right to the point, but of course he wasn’t going to be so lucky, was he? 

“How are you, by the way? The husband, the kid, the—“

Okay, Cas was out of patience. “Dr. Solomon, could you  _ please  _ tell me what the health department thinks about my proposal?”

“Of course, of course. Against my better judgement…it’s been approved.” 

“Oh my….thank you, Zachariah.”

“You’re—“ Cas hung up before Zachariah could finish.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” Cas repeated to himself as he wandered out into the hallway, heading to the front desk. “Donna!”

“Hey, Dr. Winchester, what’s up?”

Cas leaned over her desk as if he was sharing a secret, “The health department  _ approved the pets _ .”

“All of them?” She asked, her eyes brightening. 

“All of them. Even the birds.”

“Sounds like,” Jody’s voice came from behind him, “It’s time to get to work.”

\----------------------------

The first stop, once the paperwork was all in order, was the humane society. Jody came with Cas—Dean was left at home because  _ We already have one dog, Dean. If you come with us we’ll just have another _ . 

“Didn’t expect you to drive an old truck,” Jody commented when Cas picked her up. 

“Well, I have to drive something,” Cas shifted back into gear, “And Dean’s a little titchy about Baby.”

“Baby?”

“It’s what he calls the Impala.” Cas peeled out of the driveway, “It belonged to his deceased father.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

When they got to the humane society, the girl at the front desk, a blonde teenager with a black eye and a name tag that said  _ Claire _ , was talking loudly—and irritably—on the phone. When she hung up, she turned to them with a frown, “Do you need any help?”

“Uh, yes,” Cas said, “Jody Mills and Castiel Winchester. We made an appointment to look at dogs and cats?” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Claire picked up the phone again before nearly screaming into it, “Alex? Kaia? There are some people here to look at the pets.”

“How’d you get your black eye, Claire?” Jody asked while they waited. 

“Accident,” Claire muttered, “Why do you want to know?”

“We’re doctors,” Jody replied, “Just wondered if you were treating it in any way, if you’ve gotten it looked at.”

“Haven’t.” Claire frowned, “Look, I got in a fight after school. I—I don’t know you guys. I don’t have to tell you.”

“No one said you did,” Cas said softly.

“Well…someone made a homophobic joke. So I fought ‘em. You shoulda seen the other guy.” For the first time since they had arrived, the teenager smiled.

Jody and Cas exchanged a look, and then Cas swallowed and said in a lowered voice, “I wouldn’t condone violence, but I’m glad you stood up against them.”

“You’re an ally?” Claire said, eyebrows raised.

“I have a husband, actually.” 

Claire smiled. 

“Hi,” a voice said, “Are you ready to see the pets?” 

Cas and Jody turned to see a girl with light brown skin and a shock of dark brown curls. Her name tag said  _ Kaia _ , and as they followed her into the kennels, Cas couldn’t help but notice how Claire looked at the other girl. 

Yeah, he had a feeling about why that fight had happened. Dean would have loved this girl. 

\----------------------------

Paradise Point Retirement Center became the premier destination to be the new home for Peaches and Linus, both short-hair grey cats, along with Sasha and Calvin, a lab and a….well, Cas wasn’t exactly sure  _ what  _ Calvin was, but he was friendly, and that was enough for Cas to be satisfied. 

The birds were a whole other ordeal—unsurprisingly, the humane society didn’t have birds, let alone a hundred, so they were still waiting. But for now, things were good, and as the weeks passed, the new pets wriggled (and barked, and meowed) their ways into the resident’s hearts. Cas couldn’t remember what it had been like before he was always tripping over Peaches as he left his office or making sure that someone let Calvin outside after lunch. Dean and Charlie (who had become fast friends--this partnership seemed dangerous) were especially enamored with Sasha. 

In short, it was perfect. 

One day, near the end of January, Cas was walking down the hall on his rounds, having just had a rousing conversation with Genevieve, an eighty-four year old former piano teacher, about Chopin versus Beethoven, when he spotted a face he recognized.

“Claire?” Cas stopped in the middle of the hall when he saw the familiar bouncy blonde curls. The teenage girl turned around to face him, before waving awkwardly.

“Hi, Dr. Winchester.” She had a long cut running down the side of her face.

“Hello. Why are you here? What happened?” Cas tilted his head.

Claire shrunk a little, “I maybe…got in another fight.”

“And let me guess, I should see the other guy?”

Claire smiled a little at that. “I’m here to see my great-aunt,” she said, “Rita.”

“ _ Rita  _ is your great-aunt? I was actually headed to her room right now.”

“To do what?” Claire asked, her brow furrowing as she fell into step beside Cas. 

“Just to chat. I like to visit my residents.”

“You’re the director, aren’t you, Dr. Winchester?”

“Sure am.” 

“Do you like your job?”

Cas chanced a sidelong glance at Claire, “Of course.” 

“What does your husband do?”

“He actually—oh! Dean!” Cas watched as Dean wheeled his nurse’s cart, stocked with medicine (and now dog treats and catnip) out of one of the resident’s rooms. “There he is right now.”

“He works here?” Claire asked.

“Yep, he’s a nurse.” Cas stopped short when they reached Dean, “Honey, this is Claire. She works at the animal shelter. Claire, this is my husband, Dean.”

“Hi,” Claire said, without a trace of shyness. 

“Nice to meet you, Claire. I’d shake your hand, but…” Dean lowered his voice, “Larry’s not having a good day, and I definitely need to go sanitize.”

“She’s also Rita’s grand-niece,” Cas added, “I got that right, right?”

Claire nodded.

“Well, isn’t that great! Tell Rita I said hi,” Dean said, throwing in a wink before saying to Cas, “Where’s Jack?”

“With Harold, reading some books.”

“Good. See you tonight.” Dean kept walking down the hall.

“Who’s Jack?” Claire asked.

“Our nephew,” Cas explained, “We’re his legal guardians. It’s….not complicated, but sad.”

“I get it,” Claire said solemnly, “My dad’s kinda adopted. I think sometimes he wonders if he has brothers he doesn’t know about. Not complicated, but sad.”

“Is Rita his aunt?”

“No, she’s my mom’s aunt.”

“You’re a good kid, Claire,” Cas said.

“You just met me.”

“Well,” Cas shrugged, “You seem like a good kid.”

\----------------------------

“This is Dr. Castiel Winchester from Paradise Point Retirement Center speaking.”

“Cas?”

Cas nearly dropped his phone, “Father?”

“….Yes.” Charles’ voice sounded tinny and almost sad through the receiver, “I was calling you with some news.”

“Oh?” Cas’s stomach sank. So far, most of his family news this year had been bad. 

“Your mother and I are getting divorced.”

“You’re— _ what _ ?!”

There was a brief pause, then a sigh, and then his father continued, “We decided…well,  _ she  _ decided that things weren’t working out.”

“Things?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Cas. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you in the past. I just…I think it’s time that I learn to work past my prejudices. I already lost one son this year, I don’t want to lose two more. But Naomi is willing to cut ties.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“I know this won’t fix everything,” another sigh from Charles, “But I hope—I hope you know that I’m going to turn things around.” 

“I—thank you for saying that.”

“No,” Charles now sounded somewhat relieved, “Thank  _ you _ .”

\----------------------------

“Someone looks thoughtful today,” Dean noted as he started the Impala.

“My father called.” Cas gazed out the window at the still-leafless trees and vast expanse of grey sky, “He and Naomi are getting divorced.” 

“Oh.” Dean paused starting the car, “You’re kidding.”

“No.” Cas kept his gaze turned away, out the window, “He wanted to apologize. He said he was going to try and do better.”

“Do you think he will?”

“I…” Cas sighed, “I have to believe something like that.” 

Jack interrupted the conversation from his carseat in the back. “What are we having for dinner?”

“Mac-n-cheese,” Dean said, finally starting the car.

“With the little trees?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” Cas smiled, “With the little trees.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did you guys think of CLAIRE???? don't worry, you'll see her again! and cas finally got his PETS! but when will the birds arrive? and chuck??? getting a divorce??? do y'all think he can actually be better?
> 
> in Monday's update: there might be birds (just maybe) and we might see chuck again...and might learn about a ~family secret~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this chapter!

**_“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.” —Douglas Adams_ **

Over the next few weeks, Charles called a few more times, with some brief update about the divorce, about moving out, and just about his life. 

Cas responded in kind. Every time Charles called, Dean asked if Cas was okay, and every time, Cas felt a little more confident that maybe he just might be. 

In between calls, the birds were ordered, Jack learned how to read a Dr. Seuss book (specifically  _ There’s a Wocket in my Pocket _ ), Cas managed to derail a few more date nights into making out on the couch (now that they had a little person to take care of, sex was relegated to the bedroom or the shower), and life kept moving on. 

Even if sometimes it was at  _ exceptionally  _ high speed. 

“Dr. Winchester!” Donna ran into Cas’s office, nearly out of breath, “We have a little bit of a problem.”

“We have a…what?” Cas was already halfway standing up, ready to grab Jack from the corner and rush to whatever was happening.

“The birds just arrived.”

“But that’s great!”

“Castiel…” Donna frowned, “The  _ cages  _ aren’t here yet.”

“Lock them in the beauty parlor on the first floor. Let’s go.”

As it turned out, getting one hundred tiny yellow birds into a nursing home beauty parlor required two stressed delivery guys, four nursing aides, two doctors, one secretary, and one errant four-year-old that no one thought to corral until halfway through the process. 

(Rita was very happy to read him stories.)

A few hours later, when Cas was back to work, Jody ran into his office, Donna and Charlie in tow. “ _Castiel!_ ”

“What?” Cas looked up from his paperwork, “Is something wrong again? The bird thing was fine, we’re just waiting for—“

“Oh no,” Jody said, sounding slightly hysterical, “The cages are here! They’re just  _ not assembled _ .”

“Oh.” Cas stood up, “Well, uh, crap. Sorry, Jack.”

Jack clearly hadn’t heard him, though, and only looked up from his coloring book to say, “What, Uncle Cas?”

“You know what?” Cas said, feeling just a little bit manic after the day he was having, “Why don’t we just…get everyone who’s capable to assemble cages? We could even set them up in the dining room….”

And that was how they ended up with a dining room full of elderly people and nurses assembling a hundred bird cages. Jack wasn’t being particularly helpful, so Cas scooped him up and walked around, talking to folks, before handing him off to Donna and sitting down next to Harold to help assemble cages himself. 

“You’ve got a good thing going here, Castiel,” Harold said, “I’m impressed.”

“We are having quite a day,” Cas nodded in agreement.

“No, I mean in general. You’re a happy man.”

“I try.”

It was true—he  _ did _ . There were little moments of happy softness that he didn’t fight for, most often with Dean—but with Dean, things were always happy, more often than not. Dean could be an asshole, but he was Cas’s asshole, with a grin that regularly swallowed Cas’s heart. 

But the fact remained that sometimes things would fall on him all over again— _ dead brother. Dead sister-in-law. Divorcing parents. Estranged, properly now, from Mother. A child in his house.  _

Cas fought the tide, refusing to let it pull him back into the vast expanse of ocean too far. 

It helped that he had moments like these, assembling bird cages on slightly sticky dining room tables with laughter around him. 

\-------------------------

Spring came early to Kansas City, and it was time to break ground on the new garden. Cas had convinced Dean that they just needed to bring his truck, that the Impala could stay at home, and now, with Jack in overalls (it was, without a doubt, the most adorable thing Cas had ever seen), arriving at Paradise Point, he felt the clear air more acutely than perhaps ever before. 

“The good doctor’s in jeans!” Someone shouted across the lawn, and Dean laughed. 

“What?” Cas asked.

“I see you in jeans and a flannel all the time, but they don’t,” Dean said, “This is fun for them.” 

“Right, right.”

Just then, Cas heard Donna’s voice coming towards him, saying, “Well, Dr. Winchester’s right over here. He’s going to be so excited to know that there’s more help for today.”

Cas turned around, expecting to see a random college student or church group, but instead, also appearing the most dressed-down Cas has ever seen him, was his father. Charlie and Donna stood on either side of him.

“Father?” Cas said, at the same time that Dean said, “Charles?”

“Charles?” Donna said, “This man told me his name was Chuck.”

Cas’s eyebrows shot up. “No…no way.” From the stories, his father hadn't gone by _Chuck_ since college--since before Naomi.

Charles—no,  _ Chuck _ —shrugged. “Shedding more things than just my marriage right now, I guess.”

“Why are you here?” Cas asked. 

“You mentioned over the phone a few weeks ago that you were looking for more volunteers to help with the groundbreaking…” Chuck shrugged, “So here I am.”

“Indeed,” Cas said. He was pretty sure that if his eyes got any wider they would fall out of his head. 

“I hope it’s not….an issue.”

“Of course not,” Dean interjected, “C’mon, man, I’ll get you a shovel.”

Cas watched them walk off with a curious expression on his face. It was perhaps the first bonding experience he had ever seen his father and his husband have, but…better late than never, he supposed.

\-------------------------

Minus Harold toppling out of his wheelchair and Jack somehow getting covered in mud, the groundbreaking of the new garden at Paradise Point was a success. Everyone seemed to have a great time, and while Cas normally gardened in solitude, he didn’t mind the company, especially when the company was laughing and telling stories. 

What was also enjoyable was watching his father interact with people. Some of the old ladies took to him immediately. It was the most Cas had ever seen his father “let loose” or laugh. Chuck (calling him that in his head was still odd) had always followed Naomi’s example—buttoned-up, straight-laced, quiet, commanding, full of hidden fury. But Cas was starting to see now how much of that might have been Naomi’s own influence. 

Cas wiped his hands on his jeans and trudged across the lawn to where Dean and Chuck were standing and talking. Before he could figure out what he was about to say, his brain produced, “Do you want to come over for dinner?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, and Chuck looked around awkwardly, “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble…I’d like that a lot.” 

“Dean was going to make spaghetti,” Cas added, “He makes really good sauce.”

“The trick is, uh, adding more vegetables than just tomatoes. And using an immersion blender,” Dean said.

“That sounds nice,” Chuck said. 

When Chuck was in his car, and Dean and Cas were in the Impala (and they had spent the usual ten minutes wrestling with getting Jack into his carseat), Dean turned to Cas, “Babe, are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you just asked your father,  _ your father, Charles Damboise _ , to dinner. At our house. After the Christmas fiasco.”

“I feel like he might be trying to…get it together.” Cas shrugged. He didn’t want to admit to the hole in his heart that had been left by his parents’ repeated rejections. He knew it could never be filled the same way it had been hollowed out, but if Chuck was willing to try to be a better person…then Cas was willing to let him in. 

“I mean, I’m not faulting you, it’s your decision. God knows that if my dad was still alive we would have gone through all of this with him…” Dean sighed, stuck the keys in the ignition, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I understand,” Cas said, “And thank you.” He pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead. “Anyways, it seemed like you and Father were hitting it off.”

“As it turns out…your father actually has a personality.” Dean looked behind him, carefully backing out of their parking spot.

The drive home was mostly uneventful. Cas cleaned up and then joined Chuck and Dean in the kitchen, bringing Jack in with him. Chuck was sitting at the kitchen table while Dean stood at the stove, sautéing the onions and garlic together, ttalking about something involving medicine and dosages. Cas passed by the fridge and snagged three beers, handing one to Dean before heading to the table and sliding one across it to Chuck. Jack headed to the little breakfast nook by the windows and pulled out his coloring books, far more interested in making Big Bird from Sesame Street yellow than listening to his grandfather or uncles. 

“I didn’t say it at Christmas, but the two of you have quite a nice place here,” Chuck said, “I mean, all the light wood and the windows…it feels homey.”

“Thank you.” Cas took a sip of his beer, “What have you been up to lately?”

“Going to work and moving, mostly. Your mother is keeping the house, although what she’s going to do with all that space…I have no idea.” He took a big gulp of his beer, “I….I know I can’t make this right, not in the way I’m supposed to. I know I can’t fix everything I’ve done over the years. But…when Michael died, I realized something. If I kept up what I’d been doing, I was going to lose all of my sons. That’s—“ He took a deep breath, and Cas realized that Chuck was starting to cry. 

“It’s alright,” he said softly.

“No,” Chuck set his beer down, “It’s not. I was prideful and hateful. I missed so many important things—your college graduation, when you finished med school, your  _ wedding _ …I never told you I was proud of you for becoming a doctor, about how that was a big deal. I just followed Naomi, which…which is an excuse, but it doesn’t make it right. I can’t lose you, or Gabriel. I wish I’d realized it sooner, but I’m going to…make do with the time I have left.”

“You’re not going to die, are you?” Cas asked, furrowing his brow, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Chuck let out a dry laugh, “Everything just seems so much more immediate now.” 

“That happens when you see death,” Dean said, joining them at the table. He had added the rest of the ingredients—carrots, celery, sweet potatoes, and then lots of tomatoes and spices—and now the sauce was simmering. “I’ve been at Pleasant Point for…three, four years now? And before that I was at the geriatric ward of Kansas City General. Being around people constantly dying really shapes how you see the world.” He slid his hand across the table, joining his fingers with Cas’s. 

Chuck turned his tearful gaze towards Dean, “And Dean…after my sons….I probably owe the biggest apology to you.”

Dean shrugged, “I’m used to the whole ‘disapproving parents’ thing. My dad, if he was still alive….” Dean shook his head, grinning weakly, “Let’s just say it would have taken him a while to come around. Maybe not, y’know, seven years into the marriage, but…”

The expression on Chuck’s face indicated that this did not, in fact, make him feel any better.

“Look,” Dean said after a pause, his tone warmer, “We can get to know each other, how about that?”

Chuck nodded, turning his face back down towards the table.

“It’s nice to have you here,” Cas said, “Really.”

What he meant was,  _ it’s nice to see that you’re a real person, with regrets and remorse. It’s nice to know that you know you made a lot of mistakes and caused hurt. It’s nice to hear you apologize. It’s nice to see you and not see Naomi.  _

_ It’s nice to have a dad.  _

But Cas wasn’t quite sure how to put all of that into proper words, so he just smiled, and Dean squeezed his hand, and for a moment, Cas thought maybe all of this would be okay in the end. 

“Uncle Cas?” Jack tugged on his hand, “Look! I finished Big Bird  _ and  _ Elmo!”

“Oh, these look great!” Cas said, “Let Uncle Dean see.”

Jack proudly turned to Dean, and Dean’s grin bubbled up, “Good job, kiddo.” He ruffled Jack’s hair. 

\-------------------------

Chuck accidentally became a sort of figure at the Winchester household—despite the fact that he and Naomi lived in Topeka, their lawyer was here, in Kansas City, and Chuck ended up getting a condo in the city proper. He came over for dinner, or met them at a park in the city, or would take Rubicon on walks. They weren’t quite to the point where Cas and Dean felt alright leaving Jack alone with Chuck, but, as Dean said, “baby steps.”

It wasn’t long before Chuck asked if he could come volunteer at the home again on a day he had free, just to talk to the residents, maybe play some bingo or garden or something. He met them at the home, and while Dean headed off to his nurse’s station, Cas got Donna to fit Chuck with a visitor’s name tag. 

“We can head to Harold’s room first,” Cas said, “Since you already know him.” Chuck nodded.

They were about halfway down the hall when Cas spotted a familiar blonde teenager. “Oh, Father,” Cas said, “This is Claire Novak. She works at the shelter we got Paradise Point’s dogs and cats from.”

“Hi,” Claire said, stopping in front of them before smiling and sticking out a hand, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“What did you—What’s your name?” Chuck asked. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. 

“Claire. Why?”

“…How old are you, Claire?”

“Seventeen.”

“Hm.” Chuck smiled, but it was clearly (at least to Cas) forced. “It’s very nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Chuck.”

She smiled back, and then said, “Dr. Winchester, I’m going to see Aunt Rita now.”

“She’s got Peaches with her,” Cas replied, “They’ll both be happy to see you.”

Claire waved, and then walked down the hall. Chuck turned to Cas, “Cas, I’ve made a horrible mistake. I can’t volunteer here.”

“Why not?” Cas raised an eyebrow, “You were all about it a few minutes ago.”

“I didn’t…Cas, I screwed up. Big time.”

“Explain.” Cas crossed his arms.

“You—you’re not my youngest son.”

“I’m—wait.  _ What?”  _ Cas stared at Chuck, shellshocked. “I’m not—“

“About a year after you were born, your mother and I had a big fight, and I walked out. I’m not proud of it, but I may have had a bit of a…tryst. Found out later that I had a son. Another son. I signed away my parental rights, let him grow up. Found him a few years ago on Facebook and reconnected. He’s—nice. His name is James, but he goes by Jimmy. His mother chose it. And Claire is his daughter.”

“Which makes Claire—“ Cas started.

“Your niece. Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so the part with the birds was the funniest part of this story to me (if y'all remember, rubicon gold is somewhat based on a true story from my bioethics textbook) (somewhat based because in that story no one is gay and there are no errant four-year-olds or backdrops of divorce. it was a very clinical tale, it needed some spice.)
> 
> who guessed that jimmy was going to be the family secret? 
> 
> on Thursday (how are there only two updates left???): cas and jimmy meet, and cas also gets some sad news :(


	10. Chapter 10

**_“End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.” —J.R.R. Tolkien_ **

“He’s joking,” Dean said for the sixteenth time, “He  _ has  _ to be joking.”

“You know, I don’t think he is.” Cas sat on their bed, putting his head in his hands, “I have another  _ brother _ . My dad has another  _ son _ . How—“

“Did he hide this? Good question. This makes this Jimmy guy only what, nearly two years younger than us, if the affair was the year after you were born?”

“Two years younger than  _ me _ .” Cas rolled his eyes before pointing at himself, “Thirty-six.” And then pointing to Dean, “Thirty-seven.”

“It’s like, eleven months, babe.”

“Still.” Cas flopped backwards, stretching himself over both Dean’s side of the bed and his, “You’re an old man.”

“Speak for yourself.” Dean flopped down next to Cas. “But you’re fine? I mean, you were a bit shocked at first, but now you’re joking about it.”

“I mean, it’s shocking for sure. But Claire’s a nice kid, even if she—“

“Keeps getting in fights at school? Yeah, I’ve talked to her. Went to Rita’s room once while she was visiting. She told me you talk about me a lot.” Dean laughed. 

“You’re easy to talk about.” Cas smiled at Dean.

“Gross.”

“We’ve been married for seven years!”

“Still,” Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’s cheek. “Gross.” 

“We’re uncles  _ again _ ,” Cas said in wonderment.

“Y’know, Claire seems kinda perfect to be our niece—or mine, at least.”

“Oh, with the troublemaking?’

“You love it,” Dean teased, rolling over to kiss Cas properly. 

“You know I do.” 

\----------------------------------

Chuck asked Cas not to share what he knew with Claire, because Claire had no idea, and so Cas didn’t. He kept it to himself, until a few weeks passed and he and Dean ran into Claire at the grocery store. She was looking down into her cart, but then she glanced up and saw them.

“Hey, Dr. Winchester!” She called, “And Dean! And Jack! How are you guys?”

The man standing next to the cart turned, and when Cas caught his eyes, he froze. He recognized those eyes— _ because they were the same shade of blue as his _ . And the curve of this guy’s jaw, and his dark hair…it was all  _ way  _ too familiar. Cas furrowed his brow, tilted his head, and then turned back into the moment suddenly as Dean said, “We’re good, Claire, how are you?”

“Hi!” Jack said from his seat in the cart, waving enthusiastically. 

“Good! This is my dad. Dad, the Winchesters work at the nursing home where Aunt Rita is. And Jack is their nephew.”

“Really?” The man said, before sticking out a hand, “Jimmy Novak.”

Cas took a deep breath—yeah, this was his brother—before shaking his hand, “Castiel Winchester.”

“Castiel?” Jimmy raised an eyebrow, “That’s an unusual name.”

“My brothers and I are named after angels—Michael, Gabriel, Castiel,” Cas said, before he could think to  _ not  _ say that and show his hand. Jimmy’s eyebrows went up an inch before he replied. 

“That’s certainly interesting.”

“Oh,” Cas added, “And this is Dean. My husband.”

“Hi,” Dean said, clearly clocking exactly what was happening and deciding it was a moment that didn’t  _ need  _ to happen in the pasta aisle of the grocery store. “We have more errands to run, but it was nice meeting you, Jimmy. And Claire—are you coming by this week?”

“Probably,” Claire said, shrugging, “Dad says it keeps me out of trouble.”

“When you come,” Jack said, “Will you read me the book about cats?”

“Of course.” Claire grinned, “I love the cat book.”

Jack nodded solemnly. "It's the best book.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” Jimmy called after them as they wheeled away.

“Well,” Dean said, once they were out of earshot, “That’s  _ definitely  _ your brother Jimmy. Did you see his eyes?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cas said, “Do you know how many times in my life someone’s commented on my eyes?”

“A lot, I know.”

The encounter was all but forgotten until a couple of days later, when Cas was in his office at Paradise Point drawing up a new bird-feeding schedule, since Charlie had broken her wrist LARPing and wouldn’t be able to open the cage as effectively. Cas’s office phone rang, and he answered it absent-mindedly with a, “Castiel Winchester speaking.”

“Castiel? This is Jimmy, Claire’s dad.”

“Oh!” Cas shifted himself, tucking the receiver under his ear, “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. Look, there’s something you need to know about me.”

“Let me guess,” Cas tried to hold back a laugh, “You’re my half brother.”

“How did you…?”

“Chuck told me,” Cas sighed, “It’s been a long…couple of months. A lot’s happened.”

“Well,” Jimmy paused for a second, “Why don’t we have coffee sometime and talk about it?”

And so, three days later, Cas found himself in downtown Kansas City, at a shop that totally read “hipster” to the max, across from his brother. New brother? Cas wasn’t sure if that was appropriate. 

Jimmy was wearing a drab button-down with a pair of dark, ill-fitting slacks and a long, tan coat that he took off and draped over the back of the chair. Cas had somehow forgotten to leave his doctor’s coat he wore over his suit in his truck, and he awkwardly shimmied out of it but left his blazer on.

“So,” Jimmy said, “You’re a doctor.”

“Yep. And you are…?”

“An ad salesman. For radio. The pay isn’t great, but…” Jimmy shrugged, “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said after a moment, “It’s just…uncanny how much you look like me.” 

“If it helps, my wife is blonde, that’s how Claire is, too. Her name is Amelia. Did Claire say that Dean was your…husband?”

“Yeah.” Cas shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what Jimmy’s next words would be. 

“That’s nice.” Jimmy smiled kindly, “And he seemed nice.”

“He is.”

“Do you have any kids?”

“Well, we have Jack,” Cas said.

“I thought he was your nephew.” Jimmy’s head tilted in confusion, and wow, they really  _ were _ brothers. Could head-tilts be hereditary?

“He’s my brother’s—well, our brother, I guess—son. Michael. He and his wife passed in a car accident in November.”

Jimmy folded his hands seriously, “My condolences.”

“It’s—well, not alright, but it will be. You would have liked him, I think. I’m not sure about Gabriel, though.” And then Cas launched into a story about Gabriel’s latest exploits, and it got a laugh out of the slightly stoic Jimmy, and it was a good time, a great time, and maybe this would work, weird as it was. 

\----------------------------------

Cas was just coming out of the boardroom a week later when he ran into Charlie.

“Hey, Charlie,” he said, “What’s up?”

“Harold Kavinsky is in the hospital.”

“Harold is…no.  _ What _ ?”

“Cardiac arrest. Happened while you were in the meeting with the McGriers.”

“I’ll go to the hospital, then,” Cas said, “Will you tell Jody where I’ve gone?”

“Of course, Dr. Winchester.”

“Charlie, you’ve been here for a few months. Castiel or Cas is fine. Now, let’s—c’mon, Jack.” Jack was behind Donna’s desk, coloring, and Cas helped him put his stuff away. Cas was glad that he and Dean had decided not to drive to work together today. 

Not letting the cats out in his hurry was another obstacle, and then there was wrestling Jack into his carseat, and finally they were on their way. As he drove, Cas called Dean, left him a voicemail (because, well, Cas knew Dean was working. He had just left their place of business.) about where they were going. 

When he got up to Harold’s hospital room, Jack in his arms, there was a doctor and a woman that Cas sort of recognized from Christmas as Harold’s daughter.

“Julie Kavinsky,” she said, sticking out her hand to shake and confirming Cas’s suspicions.

“Castiel Winchester.” Cas shook with the hand not keeping Jack balanced against his hip. 

“You’re the doctor at Paradise Point.”

Cas nodded, “I’m really sorry to hear about—“

“Don't worry.” Julie looked sad for a moment, “This is hard, but I am so grateful for the support he's had. He loves everything you’ve done with the home—and you. Won’t stop talking about it.”

“That’s lovely to hear.” Cas set Jack down but kept a hold of his nephew’s hand, “What’s happening now?”

“He’s conscious, but barely,” the doctor said, “I’m Dr. Turner.” He was a tall man, black, with smile lines around his eyes. He shook hands with Cas, his grip firm, and then continued, “Unfortunately, we are unsure if he will make it through the night, but for the time being…”

“He’s holding out hope,” Julie finished, “So that's all we can do, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written jimmy before, so it was kind of fun to throw him in : ) obviously he and cas have the same face but let's pretend they look a lil different for the sake of the story okay? XP
> 
> monday's update: the last chapter of rubicon gold :( I can't believe it's going to be over, but thank you so much to everyone who has read along and kept up ;-; it's going to be a good one, I think, with some sadness but also some sweetness <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mentions of death in this chapter (and also sadness about it being the last chapter) :(

**_“But now, I don't feel silly. I just feel a rush of something up through my heart, wide and deep as a river of light, and it rushes over the banks, and up through the throat and into the mouth and out my eyes, a great big surge of something that for so long had no name, a fugitive animal in a wood, and I know the name of it now, and what it is, is love.” —Harrison Scott Key_ **

Jody joined Cas at the hospital, and then Dean called and said he was heading home to watch Rubicon and that he sent his love. 

Eventually, though, the hours crawled past so that it was nearly eleven pm, and they had eaten a crummy dinner in the hospital cafeteria, Cas too overcome with stress to go home. Dean called again and said he was coming to get them, that they could leave Cas’s truck in the lot and get it tomorrow. 

Julie came out of Harold’s hospital room ten minutes after Dean’s second call. “He’s awake, and he wants to speak to you, Dr. Winchester,” she said, her voice soft and sad. “Right now.”

“Of course.” Cas turned to Jody, “Can you…”

“Watch Jack until Dean gets here? Of course.” She took Jack from Cas’s arms, murmuring to him, “Are you sleepy, kiddo?”

Cas opened the door, swallowing his fear. Harold was covered in all manner of tubes, breathing shallowly but alert. His head turned slightly to Cas as he entered. Cas sat down in the chair next to the hospital bed, waiting for Harold to make the first move.

“Thank you, Dr. Winchester,” Harold finally said.

“You can call me Cas.” Cas willed his voice not to break. “And what do you have to thank me for?”

“For caring. Doctors like you are a rare--“ Harold coughed, “--A rare breed. From your first day at Paradise Point….you wanted to make a difference.”

“I wanted everyone to have a nice time.”

“And that’s valuable, that’s good. The plants, the animals, even bringing Jack in….Dr. Win—Cas. These past few months of my life, the last few months of my life….they’ve been the happiest. You filled my home with light and laughter, and—“ Harold coughed again. 

“You can take your time,” Cas said, laying a hand gently on Harold’s.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of that anymore,” Harold sighed. “This is it for me, Cas. This is where my story ends.”

“Harold, no, you—“

“Cas. Think like the doctor you are. I’m a patient, not just one of your residents.”

“You’ve never  _ just  _ been one of my residents,” Cas mumbled. 

Harold smiled at him again, “You always tell your families that having a comfortable death is important, right?”

Cas nodded.

“Well, the doctors here are going to come back soon, and they’re going to tell me if more treatment is futile. And if it is…I’m stopping treatment. I’ve made peace with this. I just need you to.”

It was the natural order of things, Cas knew—death could only be staved off. It would come for everyone eventually—even him, someone who was dedicating his life to healing people. 

“Okay,” Cas said, willing his eyes not to tear up, “Okay. I—thank you.”

“No, like I said—thank  _ you _ .” Harold squeezed his hand once, twice, “You’re a good kid, Cas. You’re going to do some real good in the world. In fact….you already have.” His eyes drifted shut.

Cas stayed until Harold’s breathing was steady, until the heart monitor indicated that he was asleep, and then he quietly left the room. When he got out, Dean was there, sitting on the bench in the hall with Jack asleep in his lap. He was still in his scrubs.

“How is he?” Dean asked. 

“Resting.”

Julie motioned to them. “You two can go home. Thank you so much for your support.”

“We’ll call you if anything changes,” Jody promised. 

Cas nearly passed out on the couch in their living room once they were home. He vaguely recalled Dean saying he would put Jack to bed, and then someone taking off his clothes, but nothing else.

He awoke later in the morning to sunlight streaming into the—Cas blinked a few times. He was in the living room, on the couch still, in just his boxers. Nestled next to him was Dean, and there was a blanket draped over both of them.

Cas shifted, contemplating whether he wanted to get up, but before he made up his mind, a gentle hand took his. Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Cas sleepily before asking, “How are you?”

“I’m alright.”

“Liar.” Dean snuggled his head into his husband’s chest.

“Maybe so.” 

They lay there in silence for some time, until the phone rang, dispelling the calm. Dean rolled over, pulled Cas’s pants off of the floor, found Cas’s phone in a pocket, and handed it to him. 

“Dr. Winchester…..oh, Jody, how are things?…..no, I understand. That’s what we predicted. Thank you.” He hung up. 

Dean stared at him with expectant eyes. 

“Harold has passed,” Cas said softly, and then the chasm opened up, and he cried. 

\-----------------

Cas had always hated funerals.

Perhaps it was because all the ones he had been to involved a lot of Naomi’s nagging and odd chanting. Perhaps it was the dead people. 

Harold’s was nice, though, simple.

The grief was odd. Cas had seen people die before, it was the occupational hazard of being an emergency room doctor. And he knew that eventually he would be privy to the death of his residents. 

But Harold was, besides Michael and Virginia, the first truly important person in Cas’s life who had passed.

After the funeral, a quiet affair, they went home. Dean didn’t play any music, and Cas didn’t talk, but he didn’t need to—Jack was busy pointing at all the animals they drove past and talking about them.

Cas didn’t mind.

When they got home, Rubicon greeted them, tail thumping, unaware of tragedy, and sunlight streamed into the living room, the kitchen, warming everything. The hole in the middle of Cas’s chest was already starting to scab over.

“It’s funny, you know,” Dean said softly, once they had eaten lunch and Jack was down for a nap, “How this never hurts less.”

“Never?” 

“No.” Dean leaned into Cas’s space, wrapped a solid arm around his shoulders as they stared out the picture window in the back of their house. “I see my residents, the ones I’m assigned to, nearly every day. I know about their families, their favorite movies, where they met their spouses, what crazy things they did in high school. They talk to me, they talk and talk and talk and show me their humanity. And then they’re gone, and there’ll never be anyone else just like ‘em in the world.”

“Dean Winchester, you are made of love,” Cas said.

“I dunno about that.”

“It’s true. You’ve been here for me, relentlessly and persistently, among everything that’s happened this year. You’re—“

“If you say I’m the best—“

“You’re the best.” Cas nearly whispered it, as if it was something to be reverent about (it was, it always was). If words could be like a kiss, this was one of the phrases that fit the best. 

“Only for you, sweetheart,” Dean murmured, pressing a sloppy kiss to Cas’s cheek, and Cas closed his eyes before he replied.

“No, for this whole world.”

\-----------------

Maybe a nursing home was a weird place to have a birthday party for a newly-minted five-year-old, but by the time May and Jack’s birthday rolled around, Cas was willing to accept anything as normal. 

The past ten months had been complete insanity, but there was something nice, something comforting, about getting everyone together in the nursing home’s dining room for a party. And by everyone, they meant  _ everyone _ —all the residents who had fallen in love with Jack (who wouldn’t?), the nurses, Donna, Jody, the Novaks, and, of course, Chuck. 

Dean and Cas had made the cake the night before, after Jack had gone to bed—it was chocolate, three layers and rectangular, with blue icing and rainbow sprinkles, and, naturally, five candles. 

As everyone sang Happy Birthday and clapped as Jack blew out the candles, Cas thought about all the things that were left to do. Rubicon needed to go to the vet soon. They had just signed Jack up for kindergarten—this summer there would be a parent-teacher meeting for new students. Speaking of—finishing the official adoption process. Then, Dean had been invited to Charlie’s latest DnD game. And next week the divorce between Naomi and Chuck would be finalized, and then Chuck, Jimmy, Amelia, and Claire were coming to dinner. 

The summer, the rest of the year, stretched out before him, and as Cas thought of all he had lost, he was certain he had gained more, here in the garden of the nursing home, surrounded by his family. 

The story wasn’t over yet. It was, in fact, just beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, folks, that is (somehow) the end of rubicon gold. thank you *so much* for all the support as I've posted it! 
> 
> (did you guys catch the reference to cas' confession in 15x18?)
> 
> as y'all may know, I wrote this fic back in November. last week, my grandpa passed away much in the same way as Harold, and editing this chapter was difficult but necessary. I hope you guys get what cas meant at the end: the story's never over. 
> 
> my new fic, _most foul_ , starts posting on Thursday, though! it's a murder mystery based on Agatha christie's _murder on the orient express_ , so look out for that!
> 
> and once again, thank you thank you thank you for the support <3


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